Journey of a Thousand Miles
by Roadrunnerz
Summary: Short vignettes of events that take place before the start of the series.
1. Accident

I always wished the show had given us a few more flashbacks of the many things we learned while it was on (the two of them creating the Lightman Group together, Cal getting divorced, Gillian adopting a little girl...). But on the plus side, it leaves a lot of space for filling in the blanks.

I'm always so impressed by writers who can convey so much in the span of one or two chapters, because brevity is one thing I'm not very good at. So I thought I'd use this concept to try and get a little practice.

As always, the usual fanfic disclaimers apply. Aside from an occasional original character, the main ones aren't mine. But any mistakes are.

* * *

><p><em>The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step<em>

_-Lao Tzu _

**I) Accident **

Cal Lightman watched in disbelief as the bag of groceries he'd set down on the pavement next to his car tipped over.

"Shit," he grumbled under his breath as several items tumbled out of it. Yoghurt. Bread rolls. Cans of beans.

He cursed more audibly when he saw a car pulling into the parking spot next to his, completely oblivious to the groceries that were in its path.

An entire grapefruit rolled under the tire of the careless Taurus and made a squishing noise before it was flattened like a pancake.

"Are you bloody kidding me?"

Did they give licenses to the blind now?

He nearly banged his fist on the hood of the car but instead glared at the occupant, who was rolling down the window with an apologetic expression on her face. "Oh no! I'm sorry!"

She raised a pair of Ray-Bans over her forehead, pushing back her long hair in the process and revealing a pair of familiar blue eyes.

A smug smile lifted Cal's lips as he recognized the driver. "Well, what do you know? If it isn't my shrink. First they get you to discredit me. What now? Is killing me your next assignment?"

Gillian Foster sighed.

"Of all the people who'd set their groceries down in the middle of a parking spot...Doctor Lightman. Of course. Pleasure, as always."


	2. Coffee Talk

**II ) Coffee Talk**

He winced as he watched her pour an obscene amount of sugar in her coffee.

The two of them were the only ones in the hip little coffee shop concentrating on each other. The only ones not wearing headphones or sitting there with their eyes glued to a computer screen.

"Planning on getting diabetes?"

"Sure," she quipped, as she took a sip of her coffee, obviously pleased with the taste. "Scientists like to experiment on themselves."

Cal Lightman bit back a smirk. They were here, in this funky Georgetown coffee shop because she offered him a drink after demolishing his groceries. He should have held out for dinner given the cost of them, although she did have a point that maybe setting the whole damn bag down in the middle of a parking space put some of the blame back on him. "Is that what you consider yourself, a scientist, Foster?"

She eyed him, her intelligent eyes trying to figure out whether his question was the jab she thought it was or whether he really wanted to know. "Do I have to have written a book to call myself a scientist?"

"Answering a question with a question, that's a classic deflection."

"Just trying to..." She paused, her curious gaze letting him know she still wasn't intimidated by him. Just as she hadn't been when he'd first gone to see her. He liked that, because most people were. Intimidated by him. "Better understand your question."

"No. You don't."

"Then yes, I do."

"Good," he answered.

"Why?"

"Because that tells me you're not doing this for the money or the title or the prestige and all that bollocks."

She stirred her coffee. "Good to know I have your approval."

"Well...you did just run over my groceries. Might take a little more than professional integrity to get back on my good side."

This time she smiled and it made him smile in return. Everything about her was starkly different here than when he'd last seen her in her office at the Pentagon. With jeans, a tank top, long straight hair and barely any make-up, she looked more like a grad student than the professional that she was. "I'll work on it."

"So..." Cal leaned forward. "I thought it was only housewives and the unemployed who did their grocery shopping in the middle of the day during the week."

"Maybe you're right."

Cal raised his brows. "You're not...at the Pentagon any more?"

"No."

"Got tired of having them bully you?"

She lowered her gaze. "Something like that. What about you? Are you doing anything besides grocery shopping these days?"

"That...is a full time job when others run over them only minutes after you leave the store." He drank some of his tea, realizing that her silence meant she wanted more of an answer than that. She wasn't easy to read but was enjoying the challenge. "I was thinking of doing some consulting work. Privately."

"Have you ever considered running your own company?" she asked him. "Consulting, but on a larger scale."

It was an unexpected question. He hadn't. "I'm not much of an entrepreneur."

Gillian looked pensive. "You wouldn't have to be. You could let someone else take care of the business end of things, all you'd have to do is get the funding by marketing your science. You already have the reputation."

"You make it sound like a piece of cake."

She shrugged her shoulders. "Not saying that. But your science is brilliant. You did the years of research and the legwork. Your name should reap the benefits...not the government. Or some private corporation that pays you by the hour and takes the credit afterwards."

It was a blunt way of putting it. He'd never given it any thought but the idea intrigued him now that she mentioned it. "How about this, Dr. Foster. Let's make it a future dinner date and talk about it some more. I'll even foot half the bill."

Gillian cocked her eyebrows. "So I get to pay for my food while I'm counselling you on how to start a business?"

"Yeah."

She laughed.

"_And_ you get to have dinner with me. Don't forget that part."


	3. Ideas

**III) Ideas **

Emily's head leaned against his arm on one side, her eyes focused on the TV screen in front of her, and Zoe sat next to him on the other. Sandwiched between his two favourite women was a good place to be. Although he was itching to switch the channel. There was only so much of the Disney channel a sane adult could digest in one sitting.

Cal ran an idle hand along Zoe's thigh. Higher, as his fingers inched underneath her skirt, until one of her hands slapped the top of his. She gave him a silent glare that pointed in Emily's direction.

"She's old enough for sex ed, isn't she?" he whispered.

"Cal!"

He grinned and trailed his hand lower again. He loved the feel of her skin along his fingertips. "I ran into a ex-colleague from the Pentagon today," he mumbled. "Went for a coffee with her after she ran over my groceries."

"What?" Zoe's interest was piqued but Emily ignored them both. Britney Spears was more interesting than shop talk.

"We talked about work and she came up with the idea of creating my own company."

Zoe eyed him quizzically. "Lightman Ltd?"

"Something like that."

"What do you think?"

"Dunno. Never thought about it before today."

"And after today?"

"I'm thinking about it."

Zoe's fingers toyed with his. "You'd need a business plan. And money. Lots of money. You also need someone with some sort of business acumen to run it with you. Otherwise you'll run it into the ground before you open the doors."

"So much faith, luv."

"I don't know, Cal." Zoe playfully tugged at his jeans. "Running your own business is a huge commitment. A huge risk. I thought we talked about you joining the private sector? Consulting in a law firm. I already talked to someone that's interested in putting you on a retainer...I'll set up an interview."

Cal nodded, although in truth he wasn't really listening. Wasn't really planning on going through with the interviews. A seed had already stubbornly planted itself in his mind.

Thanks to a bag of flattened groceries and a woman he hadn't expected to ever see again.


	4. The Answer's No

**IV) The Answer's No **

"No. I told you no last time we had dinner, and I'm telling you no now."

"Why?"

"Because..." she paused again, which told him that she didn't really know the answer herself. "I...I barely know you!"

"How well do we have to know each other? If I buy you five more dinners, does that up my chances? Can we then call each other friends? What's the criteria here, Foster."

She raised her hands in exasperation. "I don't know...more than two dinners maybe?"

"And three very intense Pentagon therapy sessions," he quipped. "Don't forget those."

At the Pentagon; that's where he'd first learned that she cared deeply about the people she treated. So much so that she tried to warn him of the risks he was taking with every single word that came out of her mouth. Even if they came in double entendres, in case Big Brother was listening.

It was also where he found out, by accident, that she liked jazz as much as he did.

"Right."

"So, five dinners then, yeah?"

"As_ if_ you're going to spring for five dinners."

Cal laughed. "And you say you don't know me."

"I'm serious," she shot back, irritated now.

She was. Serious. About most things.

That was easy to see. Serious, on the surface anyway. But she did have a sense of humour; if you paid attention, and paying attention was one thing he was good at. If she didn't, he'd never have made her the offer. Working with him required a sense of humour.

She was also thoughtful and prone to wearing her heart on her sleeve. And, compared to Zoe, she was quiet. Reserved.

If he could garner all that about her in the span of three therapy sessions, two dinners and one grocery mishap, he figured she'd learned a few things about him in the process too.

Mostly, he_ liked_ the things he'd learned about her and he sensed that she felt the same way when it came to him, no matter how much she protested. So what if his blunt, aggressive bullheadedness was a stark contrast to her own personality. She was one of the few people he'd met in his lifetime who wasn't the least put off by it.

Truth was, they were a perfect ying and yang and Cal was convinced that was precisely why they'd make a great team. Even he had to admit that he'd never be able to put up with another version of himself.

He also had to admit,_ that_ was the root of so many of his arguments with Zoe. That his gorgeous, feisty wife was far too much like him.

"Besides," she interrupted his thoughts. "I'm about to open my own practice. I don't have the time to help you open your business!"

Cal watched her play with the food on her plate. "You're opening your own practice? It's the first time you mentioned that."

_If you were even the slightest bit enthusiastic about it, there's no way in hell you wouldn't have mentioned it by now._

"We had dinner twice to talk about you building a business, not about my future plans," she countered. "The two have nothing in common."

"So tell me about this plan of yours then."

She furrowed her brows and stuck her fork back into her risotto, helping herself to a generous bite.

Cal bit back a smile. Food deflection. Nice.

He waited until she finished eating it. "Well...?"

"Well, what?" she eyed him, feigning ignorance.

"So you want to open your own practice?"

"Yes," she answered, making a point to meet his gaze. God, she was such an amateur liar. "Alec and I've been talking about it. He's got a handful of colleagues looking for a...discrete psychologist. I'd have a built-in clientele."

"That's not what I asked. I asked if_ you_ want to open your own practice. Not whether your husband had a built-in clientele for you."

Gillian frowned. "Oh stop reading me. It ticks me off."

He leaned in towards her. "It ticks you off because you can't stand hearing the truth? Our second meeting together you gush about my book, our first coffee together you tell me you consider yourself a scientist...and _now_ you're telling me you want counsel neurotic socialites? Bullshit, Foster."

She set down her fork, angry indignation written all over her face now. "I think this dinner is over. Just because _you _can't take no for an answer doesn't mean you know what you're talking about."

Cal was indifferent to her outburst. Sometimes you needed to go through anger to get at the truth. "I think you're as psyched about doing this as I am. But you're scared. It's risky and you like to play it safe. It's easier having other people tell you what you want."

This time she got up and set the napkin down on the table. "Anything else you want to tell me about myself? Any other insecurities and subconscious desires I should be aware of?" She threw down a fifty dollar bill on the table. "You're right. I am scared of taking a huge financial and professional risk, with someone I barely know...and after tonight, someone I'm not sure I _want_ to know any better."

"Ah come on, Foster. Don't act like a pissed off teenager just because you didn't like what you heard."

She wore her heart on her sleeve, he'd already forgotten that. His mistake.

But then diplomacy had never been one of his strengths.

She angrily shoved her chair back into the table and turned on her heels, before swivelling around to give him one last irritated glare. "And by the way...the answer is still no. Or as you would say..._not bloody likely_!"

Cal grabbed a toothpick from the centre of the table, then sighed as he watched her storm off.

_That went well._


	5. White Lies

**V) White Lies **

Gillian tightened his tie and had another look. "Perfect."

"The tie or me?"

She grinned. "Both."

Alec planted a kiss on her lips. "Thanks. For making me look good."

"It's easy." She told him, wiping a smudge of lip gloss off his lips. "By the way...I went to see Dana at the adoption agency yesterday, she said we're moving up the line. Especially because we're open to taking a child with early development challenges."

"So we're down to a five-year wait instead of ten?"

Gillian sighed. Funny how easy it was for one little remark to turn her optimism into disappointment. To remind her that their attempt to build a family kept getting hit by one obstacle after another. Like the visit from a social worker a few months ago, who'd suddenly questioned them about Alec's stint in rehab. About his post-college struggle with drugs.

Alec was clean now. He hadn't touched drugs in years and the agency assured her it wouldn't impact their chances. Still, sometimes she wondered.

Alec saw the way her eyes darkened. "I'm sorry..." He lifted her chin with his index finger, letting her know he meant it. "That was a stupid thing to say. It'll happen...I know it. Sooner, not later. Because even those cynical bureaucrats can't help but see that you're the best thing that could happen to a kid."

"She said the wait could be less than two years."

"See...that's already down from the estimate they gave us six-months ago. It'll happen. Our family will happen."

"I hope so."

_Except it all suddenly feels so futile again. _

"By the way, did you have a look at the space I suggested last week?"

She had no idea what he was talking about. "Space?"

"The Victorian near Capitol Hill. Earl said it used to be a law office and they're about to put it up for lease. It'll go quick..."

"What?"

He waved a hand in front of her. "The space...for your practice?"

Gillian cringed. "Right...no...I haven't."

Alec inched closer to her. "Why not? I think it would be perfect. We'd work near other again."

"So you'll come sit on my couch on your lunch break?"

He didn't even crack a smile. "Gill...what's going on? I'm trying to help you set this thing up...and you're not even meeting me halfway?"

She toyed with his tie, partly wanting to yank it back off. "Cal Lightman asked me help him set up his own company."

"Who?"

"Dr. Cal Lightman...expert in micro-expressions."

"Wait a minute...is that the guy who can pick out terrorists just by looking at them? The one the Pentagon discredited?"

"Yeah..."

Alec coughed. "Tell me you wouldn't consider going into business with this guy. His reputation is shot."

"Maybe in...political circles but not in the scientific community."

"A good scientific reputation isn't going to land him any investors. Isn't his whole science not really a science?"

"The Department of Defense wouldn't have hired him if they couldn't back up his science," Gillian pointed out, wondering why the attack on Lightman suddenly felt more personal than it was.

"Looks like they realized they made a mistake in the end."

Alec eyed her.

"You're not really considering it, are you?"

_I didn't think I was. Was I? _

"No..." She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. I'm just not sure I'm ready to spend my days counselling smooth-talking politicians and lawyers looking for me to legitimize their infidelities. Or rich trophy wives that need me to stop them from slitting their wrists every time they look in the mirror and find a wrinkle."

Alec looked at her aghast and Gillian suddenly wondered where _that _had come from. Tirades weren't really her thing.

"So you spend a few years at the Pentagon treating soldiers with PTSD and suddenly everyone else's problems are petty and trivial?"

Gillian sighed. That wasn't true. "No...I don't." One thing she wasn't was a cynic. Not yet. "It's just...I don't know if I'm ready to go back to practicing. The only reason I went to work for the DOD in the first place is because they have deep pockets when it comes to research..."

"And this Lightman guy knows this and he's now trying to recruit you because he could use someone who's gorgeous and sane to make him look more legit."

Gillian bit her lip. Why did _that _feel like a backhanded compliment? And why was she so sensitive about all of this? "I thought it might be because I could offer him something on a more cerebral level."

Alec put his hands on her shoulders. "That's not what I meant...you know that, Gill. You don't need me to tell you you're good at what you do." He smiled that smile that she could never resist. "But let's be honest, when you walk into a room one wearing of those dresses and those heels, the first thing people notice isn't... your brain. Don't think Lightman doesn't know that."

Gillian gave him a little shove. She didn't like the direction this conversation was taking. "Don't you have to get to work?"

Alec bent down to kiss her once more. "Guess one of us has to pay the bills."

Gillian smirked. "I'm okay with you being that one. Maybe I'll just retire now."

"Check out the place, okay?" He was serious again. "Do that much for me please."

"I will," she agreed. Marriage was about compromise after all and she was a good compromiser.

She'd check it out, even if she already knew what her answer would be.


	6. Second Offer

**VI) Second Offer**

She barely heard the knock on the door.

Gillian pressed the power button on the vacuum cleaner and turned it off, flicking back a strand of hair that had fallen out of her ponytail.

It was probably a canvasser, but she didn't care. It was an interruption and it would give her a break from a task she hated. A task she did only because she couldn't really justify keeping the housekeeper who used to come by once a week, now that she wasn't working.

Gillian almost tripped over the vacuum cleaner on her way to answer the door. Fought back the urge to give it a little kick in retaliation.

When she got to the door she pulled it open only to find a familiar face on the other side.

"Cal."

"Hiya, Foster," Lightman was wearing sunglasses to ward off the brightness of the early afternoon and he had his hands in his pockets. He shifted his balance a couple of times, from one foot to the other. She'd never met anyone older than five who was quite so incapable of stillness as he was. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," Gillian opened the door wider and watched as he ambled into her hallway.

"The other night, at the restaurant, I said what I wanted to say all wrong."

Small talk was something Cal Lightman didn't believe in. Gillian wouldn't tell him as much, but after all the mindless mingling she'd done with Alec's colleagues lately, it was fast becoming one of her favourite things about him. "You asked me to help you build your business," she told him. "Now you don't want that anymore?"

"The way I asked," he said. "Made it sound like I was looking for an assistant, or an advisor. What I wanted to say is that I want a partner.'

"A partner?"

"Yeah," he answered, as he checked out the artwork on her wall. "A partner. It would be my science and my name, but _our_ company."

"Ours... as in fifty-fifty?"

He finally stopped fidgeting and his eyes met hers. He paused before nodding. "Yeah."

Gillian swallowed. The thought of trying to turn what was still a new science into a tool that was profitable and usable, together with one of the most brilliant minds in the field did tempt her. More than she'd admit.

She saw him looking at her. Reading her. It bothered her sometimes, but most of the time, like now, it left her unperturbed. She knew it was something that came as naturally to him as breathing. That he didn't do it intentionally.

Maybe he could see more emotions on her face than she might've cared to show, but it didn't mean he'd ever know the reasons behind them, or how she'd react to them.

"Come on, Foster. Don't make me beg."

She weighed her words. "I didn't say no because I was holding out for company equity."

"I know."

"The reasons I said no still hold true."

She spotted amusement on his face.

"How's your practice coming along?"

Gillian moved her hands onto her hips. It was such instinctively defensive gesture that of course Cal caught it instantly. Anyone would have. It turned his smirk into a grin.

"Yeah...that's what I thought."

"We barely know each other, " she reminded him.

"It's quality not quantity, Foster."

"Why me?" she wanted to know.

"You've got great legs."

She rolled her eyes. "Idiot."

He smiled, amused at first, then serious. "Alright...you want the truth. There's a lot of people in your field just as good as you are but not everyone gives a damn the way you do. That and I trust you."

"You don't trust a lot of people, do you?" Gillian asked, already knowing the answer. Knowing he'd just paid her the biggest compliment anyone could ever hope to elicit from Cal Lightman.

"No," he admitted. "I don't."

Gillian sighed and leaned against the wall. Wanting it but feeling guilty for wanting it at the same time. Knowing too, that after what happened at the Pentagon she didn't really deserve his trust. Although that was one truth she'd probably never share with him. "I don't know, Cal."

"It's gonna be a lot of hard work. Time, money, effort...everything. But I think...I really think at the end of the day we could turn this into something amazing."

It was an exciting prospect. Part of her really wanted to give it a go.

_Alec will hate it. _

"Well?" he asked, cocking his head sideways as he so often did, looking at her as though there was nothing else in the world to look at. Lightman didn't stand still and focus very often, but when he did you had his full attention. He wouldn't miss a single thing.

"I'll...think about it," she finally answered.

He grinned. "Progress."

Gillian couldn't help smiling. His grin was so damn infectious. "You know...if you were to come inside and vacuum the rest of my house, that might sway my decision..."


	7. Fanning the Flames

**VII) Fanning the Flames **

Cal took a huge bite out of his sandwich. He told her the news while his mouth was full, thinking maybe she'd just nod and pretend she understood him when in reality she didn't.

It would've been the natural reaction. Especially from Zoe, who only half listened to most of what he told her lately.

Instead, she looked at him incredulously. "You did _what_?"

_So much for that. _

"I registered my company today."

"Your _company_?"

"Yeah," Cal answered, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

He'd come here to meet her for lunch. Had wanted to take her out to a real restaurant for the occasion but Zoe's schedule wasn't generous enough for that, so subway sandwiches on the patio of a fast-food restaurant it was. Not that Cal minded that part. It was a gorgeous day and he wasn't a gourmand. Not by a long shot. Italian cold cuts with a lot of mustard and hot peppers were just fine by him.

He just noticed that there was more anger than surprise in her face. She'd even set down her cell phone to let him know she had his full attention. "You decided to open your own business and not even _tell _me?"

"I mentioned the idea to you before."

"You 'mentioned the idea'? Kind of how I've mentioned to you I'd like to go to Paris one day?" Zoe shot back. "Except I don't go and actually book tickets without telling my husband!"

"Zoe..." Cal cringed. They'd had so many arguments these days, he wondered why he kept forgetting how good she was at it.

_It's because she does it for a living. _

"You're unbelievable, Cal." Her veggie wrap was sitting on the wax paper it came in, Zoe clearly having lost her appetite. "Just yesterday I was still trying to hook you up with a law firm..."

Okay, maybe telling her after the fact wasn't one of his best ideas. But even so, part of him wished she'd find just an iota of enthusiasm buried in her anger somewhere.

"I want to do this," he told her, needing her to know this wasn't a whim. That he was dead serious about this. "I think it could be something big. Something exciting. I'm not some pseudo-scientist hawking the latest fad. This is a tested science, luv. Parts of it are even admissible in a court of law."

He didn't have to read her to know she wasn't buying it.

"So what's this...company of yours going to be called?"

"The Lightman Group."

"_Group_? So how many of you are there? How many others besides your wife know about your business?"

Cal cringed. "Right now, just the two of us. Me and Foster. 'Lightman Duo' didn't sound quite as impressive."

"Never mind that there's only one Lightman. And...who is Foster?"

"Gillian Foster, my shrink from the Pentagon. The one who ran over my groceries and gave me the idea." He thought about what he said. "I mean...there's more to it than that. Obviously."

"A woman...I see. A woman I've never met. Great." Zoe shook her head, her expressions running the gamut from incredulity to irritation. Her cell phone rang and for the first time in a long time, she didn't pick it up in the middle of one of their conversations. "So that's what it takes to run a business with you? Being a lousy driver?"

"I'm hoping not to make that a prerequisite for every partner I recruit."

"You think this is funny, Cal?"

Cal sighed. Not really. In fact, her reaction was starting to touch a nerve. "Figured since I'm getting nothing but sarcasm from you, I was allowed to toss one in too."

He half expected her to stand up and make an objection.

She ignored the jab. "How are you financing this company?"

"We're working on that part. It's something else I need to talk about. It's going to affect our finances..."

Zoe grabbed her phone and tossed it into her purse. "Oh now you need to discuss this, because you now need my consent to dump our savings into this...venture."

"Yeah...something like that."

"_This _is exactly why you discuss these things with your wife before going ahead and doing them!"

Zoe straightened her skirt as she got up. Ready to leave, even though neither of them had finished more than half their sandwiches and drinks.

"I guess we're not discussing it now then," Cal replied. Anger was starting to creep up on him too.

A cynical smile lifted her lips. "Do I need to answer that? Why don't you just read me like you always do?" She turned on her heels and walked away from him without a good-bye, her long dark hair glistening in the sunlight as it bounced off her shoulders.

"Lovely having lunch," he mumbled, knowing she couldn't hear him.

Cal noticed that she turned more than a couple of heads as she walked out of the patio. His stunning wife; who'd spent less than twenty minutes with him and decided she'd had enough.

Cal picked up his sandwich, about to make further inroads into it, but then setting it back down before taking another bite. He'd lost his appetite too.

His eyes rested on Zoe until she disappeared from his view. She walked with purpose and determination. As always. Away from him, without looking back.

Cal felt an acrid, bitter taste in the back of his throat, and it wasn't from the salami and the mustard.

_What the hell happened to us? _

They'd always butted heads, from the very beginning. Their mutually feisty temperaments made it impossible for them not to. But they'd thrived on it back then. Ending nearly every heated argument with even more heated sex.

Not anymore. Nowadays they ended them by walking away. Or turning their backs to each other.

Cal swallowed the bile that threatened to rise from his stomach.

There wasn't much that scared him in life, but thought of losing his family did.

So did the notion that his new business venture was only adding fuel to a fire that was already raging beyond his control.


	8. Loneliness

**VIII) Loneliness **

It was almost midnight and Gillian was ready to call it a day. Okay, maybe not entirely, if she was honest with herself. What she really wanted was something Alec hadn't given her in weeks now.

He'd been burning the midnight oil so often lately. Working insane hours to get the promotion he'd set his eyes on. By the time he did fall into the sheets next to her, he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

She'd be the first to admit she was proud of his tenacity. His dedication to his career. After all, she'd once been just as passionate to get to where she was.

But it was Friday night. Surely tonight he didn't_ need_ to...and surely he'd notice the new, red lace, two-piece lingerie set she was wearing. Gillian stood in front of the bathroom mirror and undid the belt of her silk robe. Okay, _now _he'd have to be blind not to notice.

So she wasn't as tall or as curvy, as she might have liked, but she was content with her figure. The body that looked back at her from the mirror had a small, slender waist and nicely toned limbs that even women younger than her might envy.

She shivered as she made her way out of the bathroom. Alec liked the AC on high. She didn't. He'd turn it up. She'd turn it down. It was a constant thermometer battle between them.

Tonight she'd given in, as she did more often than not, so it was chilly in their house. Too chilly to walk around half-naked. Although that would only give her more reason to demand his skin on hers. You had certain legal obligations to your spouse, didn't you? Making sure they didn't freeze to death had to be one of them.

Gillian bit her lip, feeling a warmth flooding her body in spite of the cold. God, she wanted him badly. The man she was still crazy about after all these years, inside of her. Right now. This instant.

Goosebumps ran along her arms and replaced the warmth she felt a moment ago as she made her way down the hallway barefoot, towards his study, where the light was still on. She could've tied the belt on her robe, but she wanted him to see what was underneath.

He was sitting at his desk, glasses on and still wearing the suit he'd worn to work. Only now the shirt hung loosely out of his pants, as he was typing something.

She approached him from behind, draping her arms over his shoulders as her cold fingers made their way into his shirt. She kissed the back of his neck, making him turn around.

His eyes widened when they took in the sight of her and his lips curled into a smile. "Is that new? Because I'm sure I'd remember _that_."

Gillian's teeth nipped one of his ear lobes, whispering into it. "You like it?"

He tilted his head back, sore and stifling a yawn. "Beautiful."

Gillian took off his glasses, her lips kissing his face. Beautiful wasn't really what she was going for. She didn't want to be admired tonight. What she craved was a more physical reaction. She wanted him hot and bothered and unable to keep his hands off her. Wanted him to take her, right here and now, on the floor of this room if need be.

Her breathing quickened and she fought back the urge to push him off the chair.

"Darling, what are you doing?" He backed away from her, took the glasses from her hand and put them back on. "I'm not done yet..."

Gillian swallowed, disappointment flushing her cheeks. She'd worn the sexiest thing she owned tonight and it barely registered. She mustered a lop-sided smile. "I'm about to assault you. Sexually."

He smiled back at her. That smile of his that was shy and sweet and sexy all in one, and had made her heart beat a little faster each time he flashed it at her back in college. That smile that could still make something stir inside of her, each and every time she saw it.

"You look gorgeous, darling. Really..."

_For god's sake, we're not on a first date. _

"And freezing," she added cutting him off.

_So you don't have the energy to make love. Fine. I can handle that. But at least touch me and let me know you still want me. _

"I could use some warmth..."

There was a mix of pleading and irritation in his voice now. "Gill, I _have_ to finish this tonight."

His irritation managed to set off hers. "Alec...it's Friday! It's almost midnight! Can't you do this..._tomorrow_?"

"We have the early lunch tomorrow," he reminded her.

"Lunch?" Her only plans for tomorrow had been sleeping in and breakfast in bed.

"Skip and Janice, eleven thirty."

The names didn't ring a bell. Not that it mattered. They were all a blur lately anyway. There was always someone in Alec's world they had to impress and they all looked astonishingly similar. White-haired men in Brooks Brother's suits and young perky women with salon tans. That's all they did nowadays. Network. Gone were the dinner table discussions in Bohemian restaurants, with real friends, where they talked politics and philosophy and drank cheap wine until the early morning hours.

Now it was long weekend lunches that ran right into cocktail hour and dinner time, filled with plastic smiles and meaningless small-talk.

Gillian sighed and fastened the belt on her silk robe. "Do you really need me there? I have some work I could be doing with Cal," she lied.

This time she had his attention. Finally. "Darling, I've told Skip all about you. He says he's dying to meet you."

She bit her tongue. _He doesn't mean it one bit, you and I both know that_. "Alright."

"Just one thing...they're very conservative."

_Great. _

"No swearing. Got it."

Alec smirked. "What I mean is...maybe wear something that doesn't show too much skin."

"Are you kidding?" Gillian looked at him incredulously. There was a reason she hit the gym more often in the summer. So she _could _show a little skin and feel good about it. "It's summer in DC! It's a hundred degrees outside. And that's before you figure in humidity! You want me to wear a turtle-neck?"

Alec pushed back his glasses. He looked exhausted and she felt a twinge of guilt. Maybe she was being selfish. "Come on, you know what I mean. I know you don't enjoy these things but it won't be forever. Only until I take this next step."

Gillian bit her lip.

_That_ was a lie. After this step there'd be another one. And then there'd be another one after that. New and different people to impress. More mindless networking.

But the truth was she owed it to him. He'd supported her during her doctorate days, when she'd been the starving student so wrapped up in her studies she barely had time to breathe. He'd supported both of them in the early days of their marriage. He'd put his dream on hold for her and now it was her turn.

She just wished his dream would make her a little happier.

She eyed a white container sitting on his desk and picked it up. "Caffeine pills?" No wonder he'd seemed irritable and testy.

He looked sheepish, as though annoyed that he'd left it sitting there for her to see. "I needed a little help tonight."

_I could've kept you awake. _

Gillian set them back down without a word.

"Just don't. Okay?" He mumbled without looking at her. "I don't need the lecture. Or the concerned psychologist. Not now."

"I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to. It's not cocaine, Gill. It's caffeine."

"You're right," she managed. "Can't judge when it comes to that, can I?"

_It better not ever be cocaine again. Because I can't go through that again. No matter how much I love you. _

Gillian bit back the urge to tell him as much. Instead, she kissed his cheek, trying another approach. "I love you, you know that, right?"

She finally felt him relax.

"I know...and I love you. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

_Don't make it up to me. Just come with me. Let me hold you._

She sat with him for a while, watching him work in silence, until she was so cold she started shivering.

"You sure you don't want to come to bed?" she leaned in to him, running another ice cold hand under his shirt. One last ditch effort.

"Gill_...for god's sake_ _I have to do this!_"

"Okay, okay..."

She got up and left the room without another word, not sure she trusted her voice enough to add on a 'good-night'.


	9. Emily

**IX) Emily **

"Come on in," Cal opened the doors of his home and gestured for her to step inside.

A little dog was the first creature to come running in her direction, followed by a girl, maybe seven or eight years old, with long, curly brown hair and huge, curious eyes. She was so adorable, Gillian wanted to scoop her up right then and there. The girl. Not the dog.

"This is my daughter, Isabel," Cal pointed to the pug. "And that's our pug, Emily."

Cal's daughter giggled, making Gillian grin.

"Dad!" the girl then groaned. "You're so silly."

Cal laughed and Gillian wondered how it was possible that this grouch and cynic was father to the most endearing kid in the world.

"Em, this is my friend, Gillian. She stopped by to pick up some paperwork."

"Hi, Gillian."

Gillian's smile widened. "Hi, Emily. It's nice to meet you."

"Do you like cookies?" Emily asked her, twirling a strand of hair between two fingers.

"Ya might as well ask her if the sky is blue..."

"Thanks, Cal." Gillian kneeled down next to Emily. "Is that what you're doing?" she asked Emily, spotting a piece of cookie dough on her chin. "Baking with your Dad?"

"Wanna come help?" Emily asked.

"Gillian didn't come here to bake cookies," Cal told her. "She came here to pick up work."

"That's okay...maybe I'll leave it here. And hope that you do it," Gillian shot back. They'd been looking for an office space but so far nothing had met both their needs and their budget. So for now they were both still working from their homes.

Gillian spotted another piece of dough in Emily's hair. "Come here, sweetie. You're covered in cookie dough," she held out her arms and offered to get it out for her. Pulling her onto her lap after Emily accepted the offer. "Is there any left in the bowl?"

"Dad ate most of it."

"I'll have you know that is a complete lie," Cal told them.

Gillian gave Emily a conspiratorial look. "I bet he's lying."

"Can you tell if someone's lying? Like Dad does?" Emily asked her.

"For sure._ Especially_ if your Dad's lying. I'm very good at spotting _his _lies." The pug slinked around her legs, trying to nip at her skirt. Licking her legs.

Emily's large eyes widened. "No one can ever tell if he's lying. Even Mom can't."

Cal handed her a folder. "Now you're just ganging up on me. And that, for the record...is a lie as well. Gillian only wishes she could tell when I'm lying. "

"Why are we talking about lying?" Gillian set down the folder and took off her suit jacket. "I thought we're baking cookies?"

"We are!" This time Emily grabbed her hand. "Come and help us."

Cal gave his daughter a little shove when he saw the dog trying to jump up onto them. "Em, go and let Isabel out in the yard."

Cal waited until Emily was out of earshot. "Don't feel like you have to give in to her coercion. I'll tell her you've got plans."

Gillian rolled up the sleeves of her blouse. "Come on, Cal. It's cookies. Let me have some fun to go with your paperwork."

"Your outfit's going to be a mess. Baking's a messy activity with Emily." Seeing her suit made him remember what she was doing before coming here. "How was your luncheon?"

It was one more political event with Alec that she'd just as soon have avoided. In fact, Alec's presence was the only thing that made the whole thing bearable. "It was good."

Cal smirked. "Liar."

Gillian bit back a smile. "Baking? Yes?" She wouldn't mind erasing the faux-pas she committed earlier by calling some ambassador's wife by her first name. And mispronouncing it.

Cookies and a seven-year would make her forget that mishap. Gillian was sure of it.

"You sure?"

"Yes," she insisted, decision made. "I'll throw my suit in with Alec's dry cleaning tomorrow. Besides your daughter...she's...precious, Cal. Really. Now, your dog on the other hand..."

"Watch it, Foster. Isabel's my girl. She's off limits. " He tossed a kitchen towel over his shoulder. "You're sure you don't mind staying?"

"Sure."

He paused. Pensive for a second. "You're good with kids, you know that?"

Gillian turned to him. "I did a lot of volunteer work with kids in my post-grad days."

"Nah...I don't mean as in a child psych thing. More of a... natural thing." He told her. "Ever think of having one of your own?"

It was such a casual question inside such a casual conversation.

It shouldn't have made her wish the ground would open and swallow her whole.

_Yes. Every single day. _

Gillian hated the question. Hated it each time someone asked. And people did ask. All the time.

Cal was bound to. It _was_ something you asked someone you worked with. Someone who was happily married and clearly a sucker for kids. Even more so after you'd just watched them gush over your daughter.

She exhaled. "Alec and I, we're trying to adopt. But it's...a long process."

He nodded. Trying not to read her but doing it anyway. "I see."

She bit her lip, avoiding his gaze this time, as if that would somehow stop him from seeing what he did. It was the sort of answer that demanded more of an explanation. "I can't...have kids of my own," she explained.

Cal rarely paused before speaking, but this time he did. "I'm sorry."

He could tell how much she wanted a child with one look at her face, just as she could see the genuine regret he felt for her.

"Yeah...me too."

Emily came running back into the house and this time she grabbed Gillian's hand and pulled her towards the kitchen. "I think you should help me with the shapes. Dad always messes it up and then we have these cookies that look like blobs."

"Ah, but those taste the best, Em. The funny looking ones always do. "

Emily didn't buy it. A sceptic, just like her father. "You're making that up."

Gillian felt Cal's hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, as he followed them both into the kitchen. The sadness that filled her a moment ago slowly fading again in the warmth of his house while Emily's hand was still wrapped around her own. "No, it's true," she told her. "Trust me. I know something about cookies."


	10. The Speech

**X) The Speech **

He watched her pace in front of him, containing her fury for now, while there were still people mingling around them. Patiently waiting for them to leave before she'd unleash it.

When the last boring intellectual left the room and she'd mustered her final fake smile, she turned to him with an icy look that could kill.

It surprised him a little. The depth of her anger.

This was Gillian Foster after all, not Zoe Lightman. Calm, soft-spoken Foster who just shrugged her shoulders when someone cut her off in traffic. Who'd do little more than roll her eyes when he got into one of his moods and decided she needed a little antagonising.

"I can't believe you, Cal," she hissed, not bothering to mask her contempt anymore. "You want me to find you a gun so you can shoot yourself in the other foot too?"

"Please," he shot back. "One with a silencer, in case the noise is one more thing that'll piss you off."

Disbelief mingled with her anger. "You think this is funny, do you?"

"I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to think," Cal told her. "What do you want me to tell you, Foster? That I'm sorry I pissed off some snotty Harvard profs who probably haven't ventured outside their ivory towers in the last twenty years?"

She was seething and pacing, in her short black dress and tall black heels.

He tried not to stare at her legs.

"Do you know how hard I worked to get us this venue? This exposure?"

He bit his tongue this time.

"Do you have _any_ idea?" she repeated. "I called in about three favours...so that we might swing some investors out of this. Instead, you go and throw insults at the audience?"

"What was I supposed to do?" he argued. "Nod my head when they started mocking my science, or I should say, _our_ science?"

She stepped right in front of him, getting into his personal space the way he sometimes liked to get into hers. "No, you were supposed to give them documented, scientific proof to rebuke them...not tell them that they're a bunch of closed-minded wankers, or plonkers, or whatever the hell it was that you called them!"

"Plonkers."

"Go to hell, Cal."

He guessed that was Foster's way of saying she didn't appreciate the clarification.

"If you think I'm gonna stand there and politely quote data for you while those sanctimonious snits equate our science with some late-night infomercial, then you don't know me at all, Foster."

Gillian sat down, finally done with her pacing. Tired from her own anger, as it was apt to tire those who didn't resort to it often. "You could have said it differently," she mumbled as she bit her fingernail, no longer caring to look at him. "Instead of lashing out like a five-year old."

Cal tightened his lips. That one stung. "I was being honest. Thought they might be able to handle that. Or at least that _you_ would."

She glared in his direction in silence this time. Not that she needed words. _Screw-you-Cal_ was written all over her face. Normally, her integrity was one of the things he liked best about her. But this afternoon it was all a little much. Ventured too far into self-righteousness.

_You go to hell too, Foster. _

He took a seat at the lone table in the room, both of them staring into the empty space.

Tired.

Neither of them wanting to look at the other.

Cal figured they sat like that for several long minutes before she finally stood back up.

"I'm going home."

When he saw her about to leave it suddenly made him realize he didn't want the day to end like this. "Let's get a drink first."

Foster eyed him. "Not in the mood."

He wasn't in the mood either but he figured they needed it. Needed to figure out how to argue without walking away angry. If they couldn't do that, they had no business running a company together.

"One drink," he insisted. "On me."

Maybe she did have a point. Maybe he could've taken the high road instead of letting a bunch of self-important university professors rile him. Instead of stooping to their level.

He could see her expression soften. "I don't think you'll enjoy my company right now."

He draped an arm over her shoulder as he nudged her out of the room. "Eh...doubt it."

It wasn't a complete lie, meant to appease her. For the most part it was the truth. Even when part of him wanted to kill her, he liked having her around. It had been a while since he'd had a close friend and confidante, other than Zoe.

They found a college pub near the university.

One drink turned into two, and two into four. Or more, he couldn't quite remember.

Two drinks in she was still furious with him. But she stayed and had a third, and at one point he said something that made her laugh. Which in turn made him laugh, because it was impossible not to join her when she did. And after that, just about everything they said sounded hilarious. Hysterical.

It made him think they might be in it for the long haul after all.

He remembered eyeing her more than he usually did that night. It was hard not to, given the way her dress slid up her legs and hugged her thighs.

Part of him felt guilty for it. He was married and crazy about his wife, after all, no matter how much they argued.

But Cal wasn't the only one staring at Foster in that dress. There were a bunch of frat boys that did the same. They were jealous of him and _that_ felt good.

Nothing would ever come of it, Cal knew that. Didn't think he even wanted it. No matter how much he enjoyed looking.

By the time they left both of them were more than slightly drunk.

Alec wouldn't be amused. Neither would Zoe.

But tonight he'd be lying if he said he cared.


	11. Office Space

**XI) Office Space**

"You're gonna love this one. I think this is it."

Gillian narrowed her brows, sceptical. She could've sworn he said the same thing about the last two places they looked at.

The elevator they were in was small and old. The floor consisted of wooden strips and so did part of its walls. It creaked as it made its way up to the fifth floor.

"This place isn't even listed," Cal told her. "Found out about it from one of Zoe's clients. He said if we like what we see today, we can snap it up before it goes on the market."

The elevator shook a little when it got to the right floor and after a long moment the narrow, old door finally opened.

So far Gillian didn't love it.

What she _did_ love was the location. It was halfway between George Washington U and Dupont Circle and only a block from the nearest Metro station. She figured a downtown address was an important start. For the location alone, the price of the lease _was_ a steal. Cal was right about that part.

The hallway was grey and nondescript and she saw a couple of business signs as they walked to the end of it. A financial consultant. A law office. A mortgage broker.

Lightman opened the second last door in the hallway, with a key that the security guard in the building lobby had given him.

"This is it."

There was a grin on his face when they stepped inside.

"It's a beauty isn't it?"

Gillian soaked in the sight of it. Beautiful wasn't really the first word that came to mind in the spacious room. Like the elevator that brought them here, everything about the room was old. From the peeling paint, to the dusty hardwood floors, the broken ceiling lamp and the massive window sills.

"Well?" Cal eyed her.

Gillian didn't have to tell him what she thought. He'd know with one glance at her face anyway.

His enthusiasm dampened when he saw her reaction. "You don't like it."

"It's...got a certain charm," she admitted. She did like the giant windows and the generous amount of light they let in and how cool the room felt, even without air conditioning. "It's just that, the Lightman Group...it's about a brand new science. Don't you think our office space should reflect that? That it should be more...modern?"

"Well, yeah," he agreed. "I want modern. I have a vision of exactly what I want. Glass and steel, high ceilings and slanted hallways...that's what I want for the Lightman Group."

Gillian looked at him, not understanding. "So you want _that_ and you picked _this_?"

"This..." he told her. "This is just a start. A stepping stone. Maybe for a year or two, until we've got enough in the bank for what we really want. I mean, come on, Foster...we haven't earned a dime yet and the interview room we talked about, that'll cost us a fortune. Truth is we can't afford a fancy office. Not yet."

Gillian cringed as she tried to picture the high-tech vision they had on blue-prints set up here in this old, dusty room. "But there has to be a compromise..." she tried to reason.

"Come on," he put a hand on her shoulder and led her into the next room. "There's more."

There was a door that led to an adjoining room, which looked identical to the one they were just in, except that it was smaller in size and had a ancient water heater that ran along the wall.

"Out there," Cal explained. "Is where we'll set up all the equipment. The interview room, the audio, video, stress, pitch and body temperature measuring instruments, computers, you name it...all that'll take space and that room is huge. We'll have a console out there to go with the interview room, but our office... our actual space to receive clients will be in here."

Gillian looked at him. "_Our_ office?"

"You don't wanna share an office with me? Why not? We both like jazz."

His comment made Gillian think back to her spacious office at the Pentagon. It was a stark reminder that she was starting from scratch. That she'd gone from stability and certainty to what could be a complete failure. One that would cost her the modest savings she'd amassed in the last five years. And the reputation she'd worked so hard for.

She bit back the fear and doubt that suddenly hit her like a brick wall.

_It's risky and uncertain but at least there's no one watching your every move. No one telling you to follow orders that make you want to crawl out of your skin._

"Well?" Cal pressed. "Whaddya think?"

She took a deep breath.

Truth was she didn't love it. And she wanted her own office.

But Cal was right. What she wanted and what they needed were two different things. And they desperately needed an office. If nothing else, this one would give them more to spend on the equipment that really mattered.

She gave him an answer before she had time to change her mind.

"Let's take it."


	12. Teacher and Pupil

**XII) Teacher and Pupil **

"Disappointment," she said with certainty.

Cal nodded, pleased. "Why?"

"Her lips," she told him, pointing to the photograph. "That slight lowering, there, in the corner. That's disappointment."

He showed her another photo. "And this one?"

She examined the photo of the old woman only briefly. "That's not an emotion...she's expressing a physical sensation." Her own expression saddened as she eyed the photo. "Pain. Physical pain."

Cal nodded. Pleased. Gillian Foster wasn't a natural and she couldn't spot nearly as many micro-expressions as he could. Likely never would. But she was a fast learner.

"Ready to try some video?"

She shrugged, offering him a bunch of chocolate candy from a newly opened container. He declined and she poured out half a handful for herself. "Sure."

"Even Em doesn't eat those things anymore."

"Some parts of childhood are worth keeping around," she told him, ignoring the face he made.

Cal forwarded the video-recording to the fourth example on his tape.

He wanted to start with that one because he knew it was the hardest one to decipher. Unlike the other examples, it wasn't a real life interview. It was a seasoned actor playing a part. Cal couldn't remember a single student of his who'd ever figured out they were being played. Especially without seeing the other videoclips first.

"Ready for a challenge?"

"I signed on with you, didn't I?"

_Funny. _

He ran the tape for her. Watched her focus on it intently, breaking her concentration only when she stopped to pop another candy into her mouth.

"Don't you ever get sick of...sugar?"

"No."

_Right then. _

"Well...?" he asked when the three-minute reel was over. "Is he lying or telling the truth?"

Gillian's face was a mask of concentration, her blue eyes still riveted by the screen in front of her, even though he'd stopped the tape. "Play it again."

Cal obliged and watched as she ate another piece of candy before taking it in a second time.

"So...what's the verdict?" he asked her again.

"He's lying," she announced.

Cal tried hard to hide his surprise. "Why?" he demanded, dying to know how she made that deduction. There wasn't a single tell-tale marker on the man's face. It wasn't just hard to figure it out, it was near impossible. At least given his own guidelines.

"His voice," Gillian told him. "There's a difference in our voices when we remember and when we talk about an imagined event. It's very subtle, and you have to know how to spot the inflections, and this guy..." she turned to him with a smile, thoroughly impressed. "He's _really_ good, Cal. I almost bought it, but about a minute into the tape... when he talks about having dinner with his mother, he's not remembering. I'm sure of it now. It's more like he's recounting it...like someone telling a story."

Cal looked at her incredulously. "You can tell that...by _listening to him_?"

Gillian nodded. "Voice stress analysis, I told you, it's...a speciality of mine. The way our vocal tones are influenced by our emotions. It's a fascinating field of study."

Sure, he'd heard of it, had remembered her mentioning her interest in it. But he hadn't paid it much attention. Mostly because he was convinced it was a flawed science. He told her as much. "Voice stress analysis is about as unreliable as a polygraph test. It's full of false positives."

"It is," she agreed. "_If_ you're only measuring pitch while hooking a nervous subject up to a machine. But there's more to it than that."

"Like?"

"Like combining pitch with the verbiage used. Verbiage and word choice can be very telling. Plus, you read the non-verbal leakage alongside both of those. Manipulators, illustrators, emblems...you name it. Combine all of that and your accuracy goes up greatly. Especially if the person doing the reading is good at it." She ate another candy. "And I_ am_ good at it."

_Yeah, no kidding. _

Cal watched her, watched as she suddenly became aware that what she was saying might've come across as boastful. Cocky even. Her reaction amused him because he'd never met anyone less prone to either one than her.

"What I'm trying to say is...I'm lucky because I have an ear for it. I never forget a voice."

Cal raised his brows. All this time he'd been reading her visually, she'd probably been reading him too. Using an altogether different sense of perception. "You never forget a voice, _ever_?"

"No. Never."

_Bloody hell. _"When were you going to tell me this?"

She eyed him, puzzled. "Why is it important?"

"_Why_?" He couldn't help grinning. "Because between my ability to read micro-expressions and your skill with this...it'll be almost impossible for anyone to ever pull the wool over our eyes."

She returned his smile. "Glad to be useful."

They really were going to make one hell of a team.

Cal held out his hand for a piece of candy. It was time to cave in. "Since I'm teaching you all my tricks of the trade, how 'bout sharing some of yours with me?"


	13. First Impressions

**XIII) First Impressions**:

Gillian brushed a strand of long hair from her face as she stared into the mirror of the only bathroom on the fifth floor of the building that now housed the Lightman Group.

She looked like a mess. Her hastily tied pony-tail was coming apart. The blouse and skirt and heels she'd worn this morning had been replaced by a polo t-shirt, jeans and flip-flops.

_Cal was right, I should've called back the cleaning company. They did a lousy job with the heater and should've come back. Instead of deciding I couldn't be bothered and insisting on cleaning the damn thing myself. _

_Why? _

_Why does he always have to be right?_

It was a fitting end to a day that had started with a traffic ticket for making a rolling stop at a stop sign. Amidst all the crime that went on in DC, she found a cop who had time to give her a ticket for a making a rolling stop.

It really was _that _kind of day.

Gillian hoisted up the bucket of dirty water, about to pour it into the sink.

She barely noticed the woman who'd come out of one of the bathroom stalls and turned on the faucet next to her, after she set down her purse and cell phone on the counter.

Maybe she wouldn't have paid her any notice at all, if the bucket hadn't slipped out of her hands and sent a wave of dirty water cascading over the counter. Drowning the woman's cell phone and soaking a good chunk of her purse.

_Shit. _

Gillian cringed as she finally got a firm hold of the bucket and set it back down.

"Hey!" The woman glared at her after yanking her purse off the flooded countertop. "What are you doing? You couldn't have poured that down a toilet?"

_And you couldn't have waited two seconds before putting down your stuff when you saw me hoist that bucket? _

"God...I'm so sorry," Gillian told her, turning around to look at the woman. Noticing only then that she hadn't seen her in this building before. Granted they'd only been in here just over a week. But it wasn't a big building and she already knew most of the fifth floor tenants by name. Besides, she would have remembered this woman because she _was _striking. Tall, slender and beautiful, with a gorgeous head of dark, wavy hair that fell neatly down her back.

"Is...the phone damaged?"

The woman held it up, water dripping from it onto the floor. "What do _you_ think?"

Gillian looked at her, unsure at first whether it was sarcasm or condescension she heard in the woman's voice. Or both.

Another strand of hair fell out of her pony-tail and Gillian brushed that out of her face too. "I'm sorry. Really. Whatever damages there are, I'll take care of it. Why don't you give me your card. I'll give you my contact info too."

The woman picked up her purse and started drying its bottom with paper towels. "Look...my husband works here. I'll have him contact your employer and take care of it that way."

"My employer?" Gillian didn't quite understand.

"The cleaning company you work for; I'm sure they have insurance for these sort of...accidents."

"Cleaning company?"

The woman grabbed her purse and Gillian noticed the woman staring at her feet. "And really? Sandals while working with chemical cleaning agents? Now there's a law-suit waiting to happen. Maybe I'll offer them my services while I'm at it."

Gillian exhaled and said nothing. Biting her tongue.

_A lawyer. Of course. What else would you be? _

"Honestly," the woman added with a look of disbelief. "_You're_ an accident waiting to happen."

The way she said it made Gillian feel like she was five-years old again. Getting a slap on the wrist for stealing a cookie from the jar.

_And I should know the feeling. It's a familiar childhood memory. _

Any remorse she felt a minute ago for wrecking the woman's phone was gone. Part of her wished some of the water had spilled onto her designer skirt as well.

"Maybe you can mention _that _to my employer too."

The woman raised her perfectly plucked eyebrows. "I might."

Gillian waited until she left before kicking her now empty bucket underneath the sink.

Her day kept getting better and better.

* * *

><p>"Zoe?" Cal gave her a kiss on the cheek when his wife stepped into his office.<p>

He would've been lying if he said he wasn't surprised to see her here. She'd popped in only once since they'd moved in. Not that he blamed her. The place was still a mess. Their interview room still under construction.

It also occurred to him that she still hadn't met Foster.

Zoe had been pestering him to have Gillian and Alec over for dinner for weeks now, but of course their busy schedules had prevented them from agreeing on a single suitable evening.

"What's wrong?" he asked, knowing before she had a chance to say a word that something was amiss.

"One of your office cleaners dumped a bucket of dirty water into a sink while I'm standing next to it. It slipped out of her hands and suddenly there was water everywhere. Completely drenched my phone. It was almost comical. " She managed a chuckle. "It's not everyday you see someone so ridiculously inept. I mean, pouring water into a sink, it's not rocket science, is it?" Zoe held it up her phone to show him. "It's fried. Done for."

"Yeah, well...we haven't been impressed with them either." Another thought suddenly occurred to him. "I should call Foster. Think she stepped out for sec. Tell her they're still in the building so she can drag them back in here..."

"Gillian Foster's here?" Zoe made a face as she set down her wet purse on his desk. "I'm finally going to meet your mysterious partner?"

Cal suddenly remembered Foster's irritation as she changed out of her work clothes. The traffic ticket she got in the morning. The fact that the coffee machine wasn't working. "Gotta warn you. She's...kinda irritable today."

Zoe smirked. "Well, naturally. She's worked with you all day."

"You think that's..."

He was interrupted mid-sentence when Foster came back into the office.

"You won't believe this..." Foster stopped her train of thought too, the instant she saw Zoe.

"Believe what?" Cal read half a dozen emotions on her face. Most of which made no sense to him. Then he turned to Zoe who looked at Foster with equal amounts of disbelief. And...e_mbarrassment_?

He spotted contempt too. On Foster's face anyway.

"Zoe," he said softly, profoundly baffled by their hostile reactions to each other. "This is... Dr. Gillian Foster." He turned to Foster. "Gill, this is my wife, Zoe."

Foster's smile was so fake and forced that Cal almost called her out on it.

"Pleasure to...meet you."

Zoe's lips tightened before she shook hands with his partner. "Likewise. Pleasure."

Cal stared at both of them and wondered what the hell he was missing.


	14. The Cube

**XIV) The Cube**

"She's ready."

Cal Lightman whipped his head around when the technician came into their office. He saw that Foster had the same reaction.

"She?" Cal asked.

"He. She. Whatever turns your crank."

Gillian chuckled as she got up. "Let's have a look."

"Can I come too?" Emily's voice piped in. She was in the office with them because she had no school this afternoon and Zoe had a client emergency. Although his wife did promise to pick up their daughter by the time one of their late afternoon clients was due to arrive.

In the meantime, Emily occupied herself with a book. That is, until now when the sudden announcement caught her attention too.

"Sure you can," Gillian told her.

They entered the room next door which was now highlighted by centrepiece of the Lightman Group.

A square, state-of-the-art, glass and steel interview room.

Cal Lightman was pleased with what he saw. He'd seen it countless times before, observing it, and offering his feedback, while it was being assembled here during the last two weeks. But this was different. This was the finished product. _His_ baby. Ready to go. At last.

Sure Foster had given him her input while they'd poured over the blue-prints. Had convinced him to modify a couple of design features, especially the ones related to the voice stress analysis monitors. But in the end it was still his brain child. Modelled vaguely after a similar room he'd once worked in at MI5. And another one he'd only read about, that Interpol supposedly used for their interrogations.

The result was a room that had all the necessary technical components of sophisticated police interrogation, but took it several notches further by also encompassing all the tools of his science.

Body temperature monitors. Voice pitch measurements. Heart rate measures and video. Endless digital recorders that could pause, enlarge, rewind and enhance what they were looking at with the touch of a few buttons. Best of all, it could be disassembled just as it was assembled, meaning they could take it with them when they switched offices.

Nothing quite like it existed anywhere else in the world and Cal was damn proud of it.

"She's a beauty," the technician said proudly. He hoisted a remote that darkened the glass windows, making it impossible to see inside. "One of you should step inside, while I give you a run down of the features."

Cal gave Gillian a nudge. "Go on. Be our guinea pig."

She gave him a disagreeing look. "You go. I'll get the instructions to run the monitors. We both know I'm more technologically adept than you."

Cal saw the hint of a smile on the technician's face.

Cal snickered at him. "Oh yeah?"

And Gillian, of course, missed the whole exchange. "Maybe we could bring Isabel in here. She's about the size of a guinea pig."

"Funny."

Emily giggled. "Can I go?"

"Alright. Fine." Gillian took Emily's hand into hers. "Let's take the plunge together."

Cal closed the door behind them and changed the settings so he could see them. Their faces came up on seven different screens. Gillian's sceptical expression gazing up into the cameras, squinting, while Emily twirled around, unimpressed by the Spartan furnishings.

The only furniture in the room was a basic table and two unadorned chairs.

"Right now the room's only closed, but you can also lock it," the technician explained, pointing to a screen the size of a hand. "Using your thumb prints, like you wanted."

Cal held his thumb up to the screen and heard the sound of a click as the door locked.

"Right now it's programmed so that only you and Dr. Foster have the authority to lock and unlock the room."

"But she can't unlock it from the inside," Cal wanted to confirm.

"No, because the person who locks it on the outside overrides the one on the inside."

Cal sat down at the console outside the room. "Talk to me, Foster. Tell me a lie."

"Okay, handsome."

"That was lame." Cal smirked. "My daughter can do better than that." He adjusted the screens so that the two faces were separated and enhanced, every tiny line and micro-expression highly visible for his scrutiny. "Go for it, Em."

"I don't have any lies to tell you, Dad!"

Foster looked serious as she checked out the equipment inside the room, but he also spotted the amusement that lined her eyes.

She bent down to whisper something into Emily's ear that made his daughter giggle.

"Ok...I have one Dad." Emily was grinning. "Isabel likes you best."

Cal shook his head. Only one day together and already his partner was successfully corrupting his only child.

_Wait 'til you have a kid, Foster. The little tyke's gonna be fair game the minute he takes his first step. _

He made an adjustment on the control panel, while the technician watched him.

"Hey! What happened?" Emily's fearful voice filled the room.

Cal smiled as he saw Emily's hand clasping onto Foster's a little tighter. "Your Dad changed the settings." Gillian explained to her. "It means he can see us but we can't see him anymore."

Cal made another adjustment, darkening the room this time.

"This is creepy," Emily said. The voice stress analysis registered her fear, as did the screens in front of him, even as his daughter tried to pretend she was annoyed instead of afraid.

It was pointless, asking people to lie, Cal reminded himself. They did it all on their own as long as you gave them a couple of minutes. Even eight-year olds.

He changed the setting to maximum, making the inside of the room pitch black. Neither of them would be able to see their hands in front of their faces.

"Dad! Stop it!"

"Shhh...it's okay, sweetie," he heard Gillian's voice re-assuring his daughter. "Your silly Dad's just playing a trick on us. We're going to get him back, you'll see."

Cal smirked. _We'll see about that. _

In contrast to Emily's, the machine didn't register any fear in Foster's voice.

He left them in the dark just a few seconds longer, surprised to see that they'd gone silent. Gillian led Emily towards the door, while his sensors registered their every movement.

Foster was blindly groping for the thumb print screen, clearly trying to open the door and get out, not knowing he'd locked it.

Her futile gesture amused him.

_Nice try. _

"How about some light in here, Cal?"

Foster's voice thundered through the room at an ear-shattering volume that nearly gave him a heart attack.

_Jesus Christ. _

Cal heard the technician gasp behind him before he turned the lights back on.

"She...adjusted the volume from inside. Set it to maximum. The speakers are pretty incredible. Top of the line." The technician pointed out, catching his breath. "It was one of your design features. In case you're working in there alone."

_Yeah, I remembered that now. Thanks. _

Cal adjusted the windows again so that they could both see him. "Anything else you want to try out in there, Foster?"

She smiled sweetly as she re-adjusted the volume. "No, that was it. Works fine, yeah?"

"Perfect. My ears are still ringing."

He unlocked the door and they both stepped out of the room.

"That was fun!"

Cal eyed his daughter with a smile. _My little liar. _"Was it?"

"The full manual's an icon on the main computer desktop," the technician told them. "Even though you designed the room, I might suggest reading it."

Cal raised an eyebrow. "Who needs manuals when you've got a tech savvy partner?"

"Well, in case you lose her..." he added, grabbing his jacket. "You've got the manual and you know how to reach me." He gave the room one last admiring glance. "She really is a beauty. I'm gonna miss working on her. I also think she could use a name. Like all great machines."

"She is amazing," Gillian agreed. "Thanks for making her functional. We couldn't have done it on our own."

The technician gave her a beaming smile and shook her hand. "Pleasure, Doctor Foster."

Cal watched the exchange. Amused at the affect his partner had on most men.

"So what do you think, Em?" Cal turned to his daughter after he left. "Do you have a name for us?"

"I think..." His daughter folded her arms, debating it for a moment before changing her mind. "That it's just a big, fat cube, Dad. Cubes don't get names."


	15. Relapse

**XV) Relapse **

She was so engrossed in her novel she didn't even hear him come in.

Didn't know he was home until she heard the familiar sound of his voice.

"Gillian?"

She set down the book and turned to see Alec enter the living room, taking off his jacket and loosening his tie. It always made her smile when he started taking off his suit as he stepped into their home. It reminded her that there was one Alec for the rest of the world and one that was just for her. Gillian stretched and glanced at the clock that hung on the wall.

It was almost eleven.

"Hey, sweetheart..." she answered, fighting back a yawn. She knew he had some function after work but didn't think it would run this late. Had lost track of time herself.

He sat down next to her with a lazy smile and moved his hand underneath the blanket she'd thrown over her legs, running it along her bare thigh. She was wearing one of his oversized Capitols t-shirts.

"Long day."

Alec nodded. "Yeah. Missed you."

"Oh yeah?"

"Oh yes." His fingers ran higher along the inside of her thigh, pressing against her flesh as he leaned in to kiss her. "You know, I forget sometimes...that you're so damn beautiful. How'd I get so lucky?"

She grinned and returned his kiss. "I don't know. Beats me." He smelled of cigar smoke, cologne, alcohol and perspiration. Gillian didn't mind. Her sensory perceptions too focused on the way his warm, familiar skin felt against hers. On how much she'd missed it.

The hand that was on her thigh a moment ago had slipped underneath her now, deftly lowering her body, as he climbed onto her, straddling her.

Gillian helped him along, unable to undo the buttons on his shirt fast enough. Unable to remember when he'd last come home wanting her _this _bad.

She didn't know what to make of it, but, she'd be lying if she said she minded. If she said she didn't want it just as badly.

_It's been so long. Too long. _

Clothes finally off, he kissed her harder and deeper. She felt his heart pounding on top of hers, his breathing heavy and fast.

"Slow down," she whispered, wanting to enjoy it a little more. Rush it a little less.

But he didn't. He kept pressing down on her, hard and heavy, and for a moment she thought she might suffocate between his weight and the sofa pillows underneath her. "Alec...I can't..."

She felt his fingers digging into her side before they yanked off her t-shirt.

"God, I need you so bad...you have no idea."

Her hands pressed against his shoulders, pushing him back when she suddenly noticed something else.

The dilated pupils. How hot his skin felt against hers. How fast his heart was racing.

_The only time we have sex like this is when... _

"Alec..."

"You're so fucking gorgeous, every single of inch of you." His head moved lower. Kissing, biting, scratching. All of it was rushed and messy and rough.

"Alec! _Stop it!"_

She pushed him harder this time, wedging herself out from underneath him.

He looked at her, eyes-wide open, finally coming up for air. He was still breathing as though he'd just run a marathon. "_Gill?_ What's wrong? Thought you wanted..."

Gillian sat up and eased away from him, feeling the tears well up in her eyes.

"What's wrong? I thought you wanted..."

"Not like this." In that moment she hated him. So much so that she could barely bring herself to look at him. "Not when you're high."

He sank back into the couch. "I see..."

She wanted so badly for him to deny it. Heartbroken that he didn't even try.

"You swore, Alec..." Gillian felt her voice catch in her throat. "After everything we went through..._you swore_!"

"It was there and everyone..." He turned to her. Defensive. "_Everyone_ in the room was doing it! One line. That's it. One damn line! You don't know what it's like at these things...I couldn't be the only one who said 'no thanks.'"

Gillian felt cold all of a sudden. Goosebumps rose along her arms and she shivered after he'd tossed the blanket on the ground. "You couldn't say no because everyone else was doing it?" She still couldn't bring herself to look at him. Not sure whether his excuse was reason to laugh or cry.

Instead, her mind went back to the past.

To the days after they graduated from college. When time was a hopeless, blurry mess of days and night and weeks that all blended into one another. The vomiting and the paranoia. The mood swings and depression that followed. Every classic symptom she knew by heart from all the textbooks she'd read. Exhibited by the man she loved. The man who'd already proposed to her.

She thought back to the times when he wouldn't sleep for a week and then wouldn't get out of bed for days.

It was like living with a stranger. It meant walking on eggshells. Crying and fighting. Hoping and trying. _All the time._

It was her youth and her father all over again.

But she was crazy about him. Refused to give up. Refused to believe she, _of all people_, couldn't help him. Because she knew that in the moments when the drugs loosened their grip on him, he loved her just as much as she loved him. And she couldn't imagine her life without him in it.

For over a year, it nearly tore them apart and when he finally did find a way out of his abyss, she'd sworn she wouldn't do it again. _Couldn't_ do it again.

"It was one line of coke, Gill...at one stupid party," he repeated, bringing her back to the present. "It'll never happen again."

"You swore, Alec..." Gillian didn't want to cry. Hated that she couldn't stop her tears from falling. She angrily wiped them away with the back of her hand. "You swore we'd never go back there."

Alec couldn't look at her any more either. "You don't understand. I couldn't be the only who said no...it's not how it works."

"If they all jumped off a cliff you'd follow?"

He tightened his lips. "Not everyone's as perfect as you are, Gill."

The therapist in her could rationalize his reactions but tonight she didn't want to. Because she wasn't his therapist.

_I'm your wife. And that hurt._

It brought on fresh tears, that fell silently against her will. "Except...if I was so perfect, my husband wouldn't need to get high to want to make love to me."

His anger faded. Quickly, as it always did. Alec didn't have a temper. Or even a mean streak. In fact, he was one of the gentlest men she knew. It was one the things she loved most about him. Regret was what she saw on his face now.

"That's not true..." His voice was low and soft and laden with guilt. "You_ know_ it's not."

"Get away from me."

Alec turned to her, still partly in a daze. Still high. "I'm sorry...I know you're angry...but I'd never hurt you, you_ know_ that. I just wanted to give you what...I can't always..."

Gillian swallowed, feeling her cheeks burn.

She knew exactly what he was implying.

Truth was, she enjoyed sex more than he did. Wished he was more daring and sometimes felt guilty for it. But she'd never made him feel like he didn't satisfy her. Never made him feel that what they had wasn't enough.

_Or maybe...I'm lying to both of us. _

"Not when you're high."

"I'll sleep on the couch."

"No..." her words were muffled and bitter. "You can sleep under another roof."

"Gill?"

"Just get out."

She'd never asked him to leave before. No matter how bad things got. But tonight Gillian knew that if he didn't, then she would. And selfishly she didn't want to be the one.

She watched him put his clothes back on, stuff his shirt back into his pants, grab his jacket off the floor and leave without looking back. Without another word.

Gillian heard the rattle of his keys before he carefully closed and locked the door behind him. Meticulous. Even when he was high.

Part of her wanted him to fight. To get angry. To tell her he wasn't leaving no matter how much she pushed him away. But Alec had never been much of a fighter.

Another part of her suddenly wanted to run after him. Wanted to tell him she was sorry. Because she was terrified of what he might do on his own and of what might happen to him.

But she couldn't move. Her limbs were heavy and immobile.

With shaky hands Gillian picked up the blanket off the floor and draped it around herself because she still couldn't get warm. Couldn't stop crying. Defeat and resignation overshadowed her anger now.

It would never really be over. She knew that now. The shadow of his addictions would always hang over them. Maybe one day it would pull him down again. Or maybe not.

But the possibility would always be there. No matter how much she wanted to pretend it wasn't.

For once, Gillian wished she didn't love him so much.

And for the first time she wondered if the day would ever come when she'd be able to walk away without feeling anything anymore.

* * *

><p>AN: The next four chapters or so will all fit together and follow each other in close chronological order. (Clearly still not quite mastering the art of brevity and the one-shot format!) And, as always, big thanks for reading and leaving me your thoughts.


	16. The Line

**XVI) The Line**

Cal cocked his eyebrows and stole a glance at her when she wasn't looking.

Both of them were sitting at his dining room table, its entire surface covered with their paperwork. They were working out of his home because Zoe was in Chicago again. And because they hadn't finished what they needed to at the office and Cal had to take Emily home and put her to bed. It was easier for Foster to join him rather than try and divide all the things they still needed to do. They would've spent the bulk of the evening trying to sort things out over the phone.

Gillian put on a happy front for Emily while they were having dinner, but she'd barely touched her food and he knew she was miserable. Cal wondered when she was going to tell him why. He'd spent a good part of the day guessing after spotting one tell after another on her face. Anger. Frustration. Hurt. Disappointment.

His curiosity wanted to know, but his pride wanted her to tell him of her own volition. Didn't want to pull it out of her.

Gillian dropped the pen she was holding and cursed as it fell down to the floor and rolled under the table before stopping at his feet.

Cal picked it up and handed it to her. "You okay there, Foster?"

Screw his pride. Unlike him, she kept everything close to the vest. Yanking it out of her was going to be the only way.

"I'm fine."

"Come on." He gave her a _who-the-hell-are-you kidding_ look and in turn she raised her brow and eyed him with just the slightest trace of annoyance. "Spill."

God, she was hard to read. It was both fitting and ironic, he thought, that the person he would work most closely with would be the one he had the hardest time figuring out.

"Cal..." she started and again he couldn't quite tell whether she was annoyed. Or tired. Or just wanting to ask him a question about the presentations they'd been pouring over all day.

"What?"

"You know..." She paused as she often did during their conversations. It was something he was still getting used to. This notion of thinking before uttering. "This skill that we have. Of seeing...and hearing things that others can't. We see them in each other too."

"Yeah, we do," he agreed, still not sure where she was headed.

"I think there should be a line between the two of us. A line that we don't cross."

"Our skills," he countered. "Are not something we can turn off. Pretending to each other that we can would be a lie."

"I know," she agreed. "Not saying we should lie to each other but we can agree to not do anything about the things we see."

Cal didn't quite understand.

"Just because we see something doesn't mean we have to pursue it. Drawing a line between the two of us would mean that we'd only ask about what we see if...the other person volunteers to discuss it first."

Cal smiled. Now he got it. "Is this your way of saying, 'mind your own business, Cal' ?"

She didn't return his smile. "Something like that."

He held out his hand to shake on it with mock formality. "Alright. To 'the Line' then. I agree to not probe, pester or poke my nose into your business unless, you tell me that...you _want me to_."

Finally, he coaxed something that looked almost like a smile out of her.

"I'm not entirely convinced you're capable of all that, but, yeah, if you could try, that'd be nice."

"Course I can." He took a sip of his tea, noticing it was almost cold. They'd been sitting here at his dining room table for far too long. The presentations they were putting together for no less than four potential new clients tomorrow were almost done. It was going to be a long day, right on the heels of another long day.

They were starting to amass a list of clients but the list was small and so far many of them were not exactly the kind of clientele Cal had hoped to build for the long run. One of their very first was a jealous husband who'd brought his wife in to the Cube for questioning. It was embarrassing and humiliating for everyone in the room and Cal swore it was the first and last marital problem they'd take on. Foster gave the man the name of a couple's counsellor when they were done.

Then there was a billionaire who didn't trust his shareholders and wanted them to go over several hundred hours of videotape to check for signs of deceit at their meetings.

An insurance company wanting their help in investigating what they believed were fraudulent claims.

And a high tech security firm who hired them to help screen their job applicants.

The Lightman Group was getting there but the steps were small and tedious, and because it was only the two of them doing everything, the hours they were putting in were ridiculous. They would have to hire an assistant or two. Sooner rather than later.

Gillian set down a file folder and rubbed her eyes. "My head _is _pounding," she admitted.

That was something else he'd read on her face today. Physical discomfort, on top of everything else. That and exhaustion. She looked like she hadn't slept in a couple of days.

Cal checked the time on his silver Rolex. It was getting late. "Maybe we should call it a day."

Gillian pointed to a paragraph on a sheet of paper she was holding. "I wanted to re-write this part first. Make us sound a little less...desperate."

He chuckled. "We are desperate."

Even that didn't elicit the slightest amusement from her and it was starting to worry him. It wasn't like her. He hoped she wasn't getting sick. That's the last thing they needed right now. One of them out of commission. "Come on," he said. "At least take a break then."

She gave him a sceptical look. "A break?"

"Take a nap in the guest bedroom," he suggested. "I'll rewrite that part and then we'll go over it together afterwards. We can't look like shit tomorrow."

"If you put it that way." She gestured to the couch in his darkened living room. "I'll close my eyes for twenty minutes on your sofa. Wake me if I sleep longer, 'kay?"

Cal nodded, doubting that he would. She looked like she could use more than twenty minutes of sleep.

It didn't take her long to fall asleep and Cal got up to brew himself a fresh pot of tea, before going over the last proposal one more time. Maybe Foster had a point. That part did make them sound a little desperate.

Cal opened the document on his laptop and started rewording it.

_"Look... I can't go there again...I can't!" _

Cal poked his head into the living room. "Gill?"

He wondered who she was talking to, especially since her phone was lying on the table next to him and it was turned off.

Cal got up to check in her.

She was dreaming.

No, he corrected himself. Nightmare. Judging from the terrified expression on her face and the faint sheen of perspiration along her hairline.

Seeing her like that suddenly made him feel the kind of protectiveness he'd only ever felt for Zoe and Emily. It was a strange sensation and he didn't know what to make of it. Nor did he get why it made him feel guilty.

_You care about her because she's become a friend. That's all. _

Cal kneeled down next to her and squeezed her arm. "Foster?"

The gesture startled her back into wakefulness.

Cal put both hands on her shoulders, steadying her. "Hey...it's alright. Just a dream."

Her pupils took a moment to focus and to remember where she was. One of her hands was clutching his arm and as soon as she realized it, she quickly let go of him.

"You alright?" It was a dumb question. She wasn't.

"Yeah..." she lied. "Stupid dream." She pushed herself off the couch. "Maybe you're right...it's time to call it day." Her eyes darkened. "Time to go home."

It's what he read on her face now that _really _got to him.

_You don't want to go home. _

Whatever was bothering her had to do with her husband. That much was obvious now.

Cal had met Alec Foster only a couple of times and the longest conversation he had with the man had been one evening when Gillian's car was in the shop and he'd given her a ride home. Alec had invited him to come in for a drink, even though Cal could see he was hoping the answer was no.

Truth was, Cal hadn't really seen enough of the man to make any judgments. Not that that stopped him.

What he had seen hadn't impressed him much. He'd seen defensiveness and pretence. But most of all he'd seen insecurity.

And Cal couldn't for the life of him understand why. The guy looked good enough, seemed healthy, had a beautiful home and a supposedly thriving career. On top of it all he had a wonderful wife who was crazy about him. God knows why, but she was.

Plonker should've been on top of the world.

Instead, the guy looked like he wanted to crawl out of his skin and Cal couldn't quite understand how Foster didn't see that. Or didn't care.

Not that it was any of his business. Or that he didn't realize that things were rarely what they seemed.

"Home?" Cal questioned. "You seriously trust me to re-write this stuff by myself?"

If she didn't want to go home yet, he was the last person who'd make her.

He spotted the slightest amusement on her face now. "You wrote a whole book by yourself, didn't you?"

"I had... a great editor," he told her. "Tell you what...lemme get you something for your headache, have a real nap and after that we'll have one last look at it, yeah?"

This time he caught the gratitude in her eyes and it made him wish she trusted him enough to tell him what was wrong.

He wondered if she ever would. Trust him enough.

"What about Zoe? I don't want to stay late if..."

"Won't be back from Chicago 'til tomorrow."

Gillian nodded. "Alright."

He brought her a glass of water, along with two aspirin and turned off the lights in the living room, promising he'd wake her after an hour.

While she fell back asleep, Cal rewrote one of the proposals, and when two hours came and went he didn't still have the heart to wake her. The lines of tension finally left her face and this time her sleep was deep and calm.

At one point his cell phone rang and he picked it up on the first ring.

"Yeah?"

_"Dr. Lightman?"_

"Yeah?"

_"This is Alec...Gillian's husband." _

"Alec?" Cal wondered how come the guy had his mobile number. It's not as though he'd given Foster Zoe's number.

_"Is she...is my wife with you?" _

Cal turned to Foster, asleep on his sofa. Debating his answer for half a second.

"No," he lied.

There was a pause.

"Is everything alright?" Cal asked him.

_"I, uh...I'm worried. She didn't come home last night. Hasn't answered my calls." _

Cal swallowed. "She was at the office with me today."

_"I see...then, I'm sure it's...it's okay. Never mind. Thanks." _

Foster's husband ended the call without another word.

And Cal turned back to Foster, still fast asleep, even more curious as to what the hell was going on.

* * *

><p>It was close to midnight.<p>

Cal yawned and he debated whether to throw a blanket over her and let her spend the night, while he hit the sheets himself. At least here, she'd get some decent rest.

What he didn't expect was to hear the sound of keys turning in his door.

Cal jumped up from his chair, knocking a folder off the table in the process.

"Zoe?"

His wife emerged from the hallway, wheeling her carry-on suitcase behind her. She looked tired. "Hey..."

"Zoe...what are you doing home?"

"Whatever happened to welcome home, darling?" She toed out of her heels and turned on the lights, illuminating their work area and the living room. "Cal...this place is a mess."

Cal watched as Gillian woke up, eyes struggling to focus in the sudden brightness.

Zoe shook her head in disbelief at what she saw.

Then she gave Cal an ice-cold glare. "Now I see why you're not thrilled to see me come home a day early."


	17. Homecoming

**XVII) Homecoming **

"See you tomorrow," Cal mumbled, holding up Foster's coat so she could slip inside it.

"She's upset," Gillian said softly. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault."

"I shouldn't have been sleeping on your couch until midnight."

Cal sighed. That hadn't been her decision. Not that either of them had anything to apologize for. They'd been forced to work from his home so he could keep an eye on Emily. Foster was tired and had a nap on his couch. While he sat in the dining room and worked.

What the hell was he supposed to be feeling guilty for?

"I know we did nothing wrong," she whispered. Why were they even whispering? Zoe was in the living room, out of earshot. "But I get it, Cal. She came home and saw another woman sleeping on her couch...I shouldn't have..."

"Just stop it," he told her, no longer whispering. He remembered Alec's phone call and had to ask. "Are you going home tonight?"

Her eyes met his and she held his gaze for what felt an eternity. He couldn't read her at all in that moment. "Yeah, I'm going home."

He couldn't tell whether she was lying, but he could tell that she didn't like that he was asking.

"I don't know..." she said softly, her voice low. "_How_ you know. But it's none of your concern, okay?"

"You're my partner. It's my concern," he shot back, tired of having the women in his life telling him what he was supposed to feel. So much for their line. A few hours in and he'd stepped over it already.

Gillian swallowed and gave him the slightest of nods.

He acknowledged that gesture for what it was. "Apology accepted."

"I'm okay, Cal. Really. Good night."

"'Night, Foster."

He hoped she was telling him the truth. Hating that he couldn't tell.

* * *

><p>Zoe was sitting on the couch that Gillian had slept on and poured herself a generous glass of wine. "So...did you kiss your partner good-night?"<p>

Cal pursed his lips, debating whether to walk by without a word. To shower and head to the bedroom and hope that the silent treatment would avert the late night fight that he wasn't in the mood for.

But that wasn't really his style. And truthfully, that last comment riled him.

"Yeah, I did. Made out with her in the corridor."

Zoe shot him another icy look. "Good to know you think this is funny."

"What am I supposed to think? What exactly are you accusing me of anyway?"

"What am _I_ supposed to think when I come at midnight and find your business partner sleeping on our couch?"

"I don't know..." Cal threw his arm up in the air. "Look at the mess of paper on the table and figure that we had to take our work home, because one of has to make dinner for our daughter, put her to bed, walk the dog..."

"Oh please..." Zoe cut him. "Don't you turn this into me being away too much and you having to make sacrifices. Last I checked you went away three times last month...where was it again? Two trips to Dallas for that security firm that hired you...one two-day trip to Montreal for some billionaire freak? Who do you think put Emily to bed then?"

Cal bit his tongue. "So what_ is_ it about then?"

She looked at him incredulously. "It's about Gillian Foster sleeping on our couch at midnight!"

Cal sighed. Really? All this was about Foster having a nap on his couch?

"She wasn't feeling well, so I told her to lie down. That's it. What else am I supposed to explain here?"

"Doesn't she have a bed of her own to go home to if she wasn't feeling well?"

Cal pointed to the mess of papers scattered all over the table. "We still had work to do!"

"At what, one in the morning?" She managed a chuckle. "Come_ on_, Cal."

Her look was accusatory and there was no mistaking that she assumed he was lying.

_Was he?_

Truth was Foster wanted to go home. He was the one who convinced her to stay because of what he read on her face. She'd agreed because he told her Zoe wouldn't be home until tomorrow. And he was the one who didn't have the heart to wake her when she asked him to.

_That_ was the real truth.

But Cal had a feeling Zoe wouldn't appreciate that kind of honesty either.

So maybe she was right. He was lying.

"We've got four potential clients to meet tomorrow. Have to run all over DC," he explained instead. "Yeah...we would've been working 'til one. We're still trying to build this company. Get the clients we need to pay the bills. It's a helluva lot of work."

Zoe swallowed a deep sip of her wine. Now he saw the hurt on her face as well as the anger. "Do you even understand why I'm angry?"

Cal exhaled. Truth was he didn't. But he knew enough to know when he wasn't going to win. "Yeah, I do..." he said softly, holding out an olive branch. "And I'm sorry seeing her here upset you. But I'm telling you you've got no reason to be." This time he was giving her the whole truth. And nothing but.

"I don't?" she questioned. "She's a beautiful woman, your partner. Don't tell me you haven't noticed. You of all people."

Cal bit his lip, moving over to the table to pour himself a glass of wine as well. He was starting to feel like he needed it. "She's married, Zoe. Happily married. And so am I...to the most beautiful woman I know."

"Smooth."

Why the hell was everything a provocation tonight? "It's the truth, luv."

Zoe's dark eyes met his and this time he saw something else in them too, aside from hurt and anger.

Guilt.

He stared at her because that surprised him. It was an emotion she had no reason to express. One that made no sense given her accusations.

_Unless..._

It suddenly dawned on him then that maybe this had nothing to do with her finding Foster asleep on his couch after all. Nothing to do with the inexplicable animosity between his wife and his partner, which neither woman had ever given him a reason for, even though he could read it on their faces every time they were in the same room together.

Cal swallowed some wine and looked at her, reading her even though he knew she hated it. "What's going with us, Zoe? You're travelling all the time lately. You don't bother to let me know when you're coming home."

"Do you care?"

"Do I care when my wife comes home?" he shot back. There was only so much bitterness he could handle without retaliating. "No, course not. Why the hell would I care? Just need to know how much to cook for dinner and what to tell Em when she asks."

She finished her wine and exhaled. "Anything else?"

"Yeah...now that you mention it. What else is it that you do in Chicago besides work? Why Chicago? Why once a week all of a sudden?" Cal knew there was no turning back now. But the guilt he'd spotted on her face made it impossible for him not to ask. He needed to see her reaction now. Needed to know. He'd self combust before the night was over if he didn't.

He'd always been jealous. Madly, insanely, unfairly jealous.

But how could you not be when you married someone like Zoe? Flirty, feisty, gorgeous Zoe who could turn half a dozen heads just by walking into a room. Who could charm every judge she tried a case in front of.

What man wouldn't want to steal her from him?

"Yeah, I'm having an affair, Cal. That's why I came home a day early," she shot back, her eyes watering.

It should've been anger at the ridiculousness of his accusation that he saw on her face now. But there were half a dozen micro-expressions that told him it wasn't.

It wasn't anger he was seeing on her face.

She was pretending to be shocked and hurt when in fact he'd hit the nail on the head.

Cal chugged some more wine and felt it churning in his gut, making him feel sick.

Sometimes he wished he couldn't see so much.

"Instead of staring me down like one of your lab subjects, you could just ask, Cal."

She didn't say anything else, before turning her back on him and heading upstairs.

He clenched his wineglass tightly in his hand.

Cal wanted to follow her but he was afraid of what they might say to each other if he did.

So he didn't.


	18. Whatever it Takes

**XVIII) Whatever it Takes**

It was almost one in the morning by the time she pulled her car into the driveway.

She exhaled and closed her eyes, her thoughts drifting back years in time. To coming home early rather than late like tonight.

To finding him in the bathroom standing next to the sink with a syringe and feeling like the ground had dropped from underneath her.

_"Alec? What are you doing?"_

_"I couldn't get enough the other way."_

It was a progressive step for addicts. Moving from snorting or swallowing a drug to injecting it in order to get a bigger and faster high.

And sometimes it meant they'd moved on to a harder drug.

_"Is it...cocaine?" _

She remembered how much she wanted him to say yes. How much she needed it to be a yes. She hated the cocaine with a passion, but heroin terrified her even more.

_"Yeah, it's coke." _

She remembered her profound relief. Remembered thinking that his job interview must not have gone well. That it was a setback but that was all. It wasn't the end of the world. She'd handled everything else so far, she'd find a way to get them out of this as well.

She remembered the despair on his face that day too.

_"I'm such a fucking loser." _

_"You're not. You've got an illness and we have to fight harder to beat it. That's all."_

_"I'm so damn worthless..." _

She remembered wrapping her arms around him that afternoon and reminding him how much she loved him. Remembered disposing his syringe and going through every inch of their home when he was asleep to make sure there weren't any others.

Remembered how cold and scared she felt afterwards. Wishing she had someone to confide in, someone who knew what she was going through. But it would've killed him if she told anyone, so she didn't. And probably never would.

She was shivering now too, as she sat in her car in silence, several long minutes after turning off the engine.

The brief burst of energy she had after waking up from her nap at Cal's place was already gone, replaced once again by her earlier exhaustion. She hadn't slept at all in the past two nights. Not the first night when she'd kicked her husband out of their home. And not last night either, when she'd exiled herself instead. Spending the night alone at a DC hotel.

It was ironic, she thought as she finally made her way out of the car and approached the door. She of all people should have known that running away wouldn't make the problem go away. It was her nature to avoid conflict, a well-ingrained defence mechanism going back to her childhood, but still...she knew better than to take off like an angry teenager.

Her excuse was that she didn't have the energy to face it. Not these last two days when she'd been putting in fifteen hour days at the Lightman Group.

She bit her lip when she turned the key, wondering what to expect inside.

Alec would be angry. He had a right to be. She hadn't spoken to him for two days. Hadn't answered his calls or his messages and hadn't even let him know where she'd been last night.

Had he done the same, she'd be angry too. Regardless of what made her do what she did.

Either that or he'd be asleep.

If he was, Gillian decided that she'd stay downstairs on the couch until the morning.

It meant she was still avoiding the problem, but she was too tired to care. Just because she was ready to come home didn't mean she was ready for another fight.

The light was still on in the hallway and she heard Alec's footsteps coming towards her the moment she stepped inside.

So he wasn't asleep. And clearly it didn't matter if she was ready for the fight.

"Gill?" The anger she expected to see on his face wasn't there. All she saw was concern and relief and love.

He wrapped his arms around her without a word, holding tight and not letting go.

"I was going crazy..." he whispered into her ear. His voice caught in his throat, close to tears. "If anything happened to you..." He couldn't finish but his grip on her was a little firmer still.

When he was finally ready to let go, he lifted her coat off her shoulders and cupped her hands in his. They were cold so he rubbed them between his own, before pulling them up to his lips.

Gillian couldn't remember the last time he'd been this gentle. Every touch and every reaction was the opposite of what she expected and it made her release all the stress and frustration she'd bottled up in the last two days. Made her feel like the weight of the world was slowly falling off her shoulders.

It made her cry too, because it occurred to her then how much she missed being loved by him.

"Hey..." His thumb ran along her cheek, wiping away a tear.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "Sorry that I just...left." She needed to tell him, because it needed to be said. "Without a word. It was a coward move, I know."

"Shhh...it's okay." He put an arm around her shoulder and led her away from doorway, into their living room, holding on to her hand as they sat down on the couch.

Gillian took off her shoes, curled her legs up into the sofa and leaned her head against his chest.

His kissed the top of her head. "What I did..." he whispered, his voice so low she barely heard him. "The cocaine. It was the last time. I swear. We won't go back there. Promise."

Gillian wanted to believe it. "I can't go back there." Just the thought made her shiver again. "I'm not that strong."

"Yeah, you are," he said softly. "You've always been the strong one."

Gillian wiped away another tear. It was something else she was tired of, of having to be strong enough for both of them. "I can't do it anymore, Alec. I'm so tired...especially now with both of us working so much," she told him, admitting it for the first time. Getting the Lightman Group off the ground these past few months had taken so much energy out of her that she didn't have any left to fight his demons. Not now. It sounded selfish to her, but it was the truth.

_I want you to be the strong one. Just for once. I want you to fight for us instead of me. _

She looked up at his face, expecting to see hurt, but instead she saw sadness and regret as he put his arm around her and pulled her closer.

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop it..." He put his index finger on her lips. "This job...this position in the State Department, I want this so badly and I feel like it's taken over my life. It's consumed me. I didn't do the coke 'cause the others were doing it. That was a lie. I did it 'cause I needed to not feel stressed. Just for a few hours. I needed a release, you know?"

"Alec...if the job is making you miserable then quit. All this stress. It's not worth it."

Part of her knew that he wanted it so badly because he wanted her to be proud of him. Just as he was proud of her. It reminded her of a conversation they had years ago. Just after she'd gotten her doctorate.

_"You're amazing, you know that. My girl's a doctor now. Unbelievable." He'd smiled at her and there was pride and love and sadness in his smile. "And me, I'm an addict who can't even hold down a job. What the hell are you doing with me?" _

_"I love you." _

_"I'm gonna make you proud, Gill. One day I swear." _

_"I'm proud of you for fighting this. For getting better. It's all I want." _

It was the truth. Still was. She didn't give a damn if he worked at a gas station or waited tables. She just wanted him happy. And clean.

But she also knew that he was far too smart and ambitious for that. Far too determined to prove something. To her, to himself and to everyone else around him. It was the most important thing in the world to him.

"I can't give up now. I can't. Not after coming this far," he told her, reminding her of what she already knew. "But..." He lowered his head to kiss her forehead. "I won't lose you in the process. You're my anchor. My everything. We've been together so long that I take it for granted. Until you left last night and I..." Her eyes met his and she saw fear in them now. It was strange, being able to read so much in the faces of others now, with increasing ease. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

She wanted to tell him that he wouldn't. That she loved him too much. Didn't know how to leave him. Wasn't sure whether she even could.

But she didn't say any of it aloud. Part of her wanted him to think it was possible. That she might leave.

He understood what her silence meant and it scared him. She read the fear all over his face.

"I can't lose you...I'll do whatever it takes."

_I want you to be my anchor tonight. That's all. To be the strong one. Just for one night. _

Gillian wasn't sure whether she'd voiced her thoughts aloud this time. She doubted it, but she heard him saying something about getting up. Going to bed. Felt his hand stroking her arm when she didn't answer him.

She was already more than half asleep, on her own couch this time, next to the steady rhythm of her husband's heartbeat.

It felt good to be home.


	19. Business Trip: Surprise

**XIX) Business Trip: Surprise **

Gillian Foster paced around the airport lounge, checking the time on her cell phone. Again.

It was two minutes later since later since last time she checked.

The flight was going to board in fifteen minutes and Cal was nowhere in sight. She'd tried his cell. Left him a message. Sent him a text. No response to any of them.

Of course.

Sometimes she felt like she was the only punctual person left in the world.

_If we miss this flight we're not going to make the appointment in Denver. We're not..._

She took a deep breath.

_If we miss this flight I'm going to kill you. And I mean that._

She didn't entirely finish her thought when she spotted him rushing down the long corridor towards her.

With his daughter in tow.

Gillian did a double-take.

"Hi Emily," she greeted the girl with a reluctant smile, while giving Cal a what-the-hell-is-going-on look.

"Hi Gillian."

Cal looked frazzled. "Em, go have a seat over there, while I talk to Gill for a sec, alright?"

Emily walked to a row of seats and plopped down a big, red backpack on one of them.

Gillian looked at him incredulously, whispering. "What are you doing here with Emily?"

"Zoe had a last minute emergency. Had to fly to Chicago for a client who needed her."

She raised her brows. "And you couldn't find a babysitter? What about Isabel?"

"I asked the kennel if they'd take Em too. But no luck."

Joking aside, Gillian could see the frustration written all over his face.

"I mentioned the last minute part, yeah, Foster?"

"Cal..."

"I know this is not...a good idea, but what else was I going to do? Zoe could be tied up for days in Chicago. Ours is a an overnight trip."

"I adore Em, you know that," she told him. "But who's going to look after her while we meet with Gordon? Our meeting could take all day. She's what, nine now? You can't just...leave her in a hotel room!"

"I called the concierge on the way here...arranged for a sitter when we get there."

Gillian looked at him. "We're staying at a hotel that has a concierge? Since when?"

Cal cringed, not in the mood for it. "No more Motel 8 digs, alright?"

"I'll stop when you stop booking us there."

"One other thing, Foster," he pulled out his boarding pass. "The flight was almost full. I couldn't get Emily a last-minute seat beside us...so will you take the single I booked for Em once we get on board?"

Gillian nodded. "Yeah...of course."

Something in the back of her mind told her this was going to be a long trip.

* * *

><p>Gillian was sitting in the very last row. Just before the restroom. Next to a heavy-set man who had already been in and out of his seat three times in the span of the one hour they'd been in the air.<p>

"Excuse me," he said for the fourth time, just as she'd closed her eyes to doze.

Gillian sighed and stood up to let him through. Again. "Listen, why don't we switch seats since..." She didn't know quite how to put it. _Since you have a bladder the size of a pea? _

He looked at her as though she couldn't have made a more ludicrous suggestion. "I prefer the window."

Gillian looked at him in disbelief. "But you keep..._vacating your window seat_!"

"If you wanted the window, you should've booked the window."

"Thanks for the advice." _Jerk._

Irritated, she pulled a candy bar from her purse and unwrapped it before taking a bite, its sweet caramel centre dissolving over her tongue. She finished the whole thing before the man sitting next to her came back, making her get up again.

_You owe me for this, Cal. Big time. _

A few minutes later Gillian saw Emily walking up the aisle towards the restroom. Saw that there was something different about the usually bubbly girl. "You okay, Em?"

"I don't feel so good," she told her, resting a hand on her stomach.

Gillian undid her seatbelt again and got up. "Do you get plane sick?"

"I don't know."

She observed Emily waiting for the next washroom to free up. "Do you want me to come with you?"

Emily shook her head and Gillian suddenly noticed how pale she looked. "No. It's okay."

"Want me to get your Dad?"

"No."

Gillian got up and waited with her anyway. Waited until she came back out from the restroom looking just as green as she did going in. "Feeling any better, sweetie?"

Emily shook her head and Gillian walked back to Cal's seat with her.

Cal's attention was already on his daughter. "You feeling better, luv?"

"No," Emily mumbled, slinking back into her seat, pulling her knees up underneath her.

"Is she alright?" Gillian mouthed to Cal.

Cal gave her a look that told her he didn't know anymore than she did. "I don't know. She told me she wasn't feeling well on the way to the airport. Thought maybe she was just nervous about tagging along with us."

Gillian got the sense that wasn't it at all. "Let me know if there's anything I can do."

* * *

><p><em>Denver International Airport, CO <em>

"Dad..."

Gillian saw Emily tugging at her father's jacket sleeve.

"I need a bathroom...now."

"Okay," Cal looked at Gillian. "Foster, can you take...?"

He didn't have to finish his sentence. Gillian handed him her carry-on suitcase and put an arm around Emily's shoulder, as she scoured the terminal for a restroom sign.

"There..." Cal pointed to the left.

Gillian helped Emily out of her backpack and dropped it at Cal's feet, before grabbing the girl's hand. "Come on, let's go."

Together they ran to the ladies' room.

There was a line-up but Gillian ran to the front of it after seeing Emily's hands over her mouth. "Excuse me! Sorry! Emergency!"

She didn't hesitate when the first cubicle opened up, pushing Emily inside and slamming the door shut behind them.

They made it just in the nick of time.

When she was done throwing up, Emily started shaking and Gillian thought she might cry.

"I'm sorry."

She looked so miserable and embarrassed, Gillian wanted to wrap her arms around her. "Hey, stop that." Carefully, she tucked the girl's long, curly hair behind her ears. "You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetie." Gillian gave her a lop-sided smile. "You did great. You made it to the bathroom in time."

Emily was still kneeling on the floor. "I want to go home."

Gillian rubbed Emily's back in a few slow, gentle circles. "I know...but we've got a nice hotel booked. Comfy bed and bathroom, and a TV where they have movies you can watch. We'll get you tucked in and you'll see it's as good as home."

This time she did start crying.

"Em, what's wrong?"

"I'm going... to throw-up again..."

She started heaving.

Gillian kneeled down next to her and held the girl's hair back, trying hard to ignore the combined smell of airport bathroom and vomit. "It's okay, sweetheart...I'm right here."

It really was going to be a long trip.


	20. Business Trip: Babysitting

**XX) Business Trip: Babysitting **

Gillian saw Cal pacing in circles around their luggage when they came back out.

"Bloody hell..." Cal's face was full of worry when took in Emily's obvious discomfort, before turning to face her. "You were in there forever! I was about to join you."

"She was sick, Cal!" Gillian shot back, her voice low. "A_ couple_ of times."

Cal turned to his daughter, looking utterly lost. "And now, luv, is it any better?"

Emily shook her head, still looking as though she might burst into tears any moment. Or make another run back to the restroom.

"I think," Gillian whispered to Cal. "We should get her to the hotel and...once we're there, she won't want to stay with a sitter."

"Yeah," Cal glanced at his watch and for the first time since she'd known him, he looked like he didn't know what to do next. "I'll stay with her. Go meet Gordon without me, explain to him that..."

"Cal, let's face it. It's you he wants to talk to. You're the Lightman in the Lightman Group."

Cal looked at Emily while whispering to Gillian. "I can't leave her like this..."

"You go," she told him. "I'll stay with Em."

* * *

><p>It was late and he was exhausted by the time he dropped his rental car with the valet at the hotel. Driving, meeting, impressing, selling, and sealing a deal were so much harder when it was a one-man show. Especially when he'd gotten used to having Foster do the talking. She was better at charming and selling that he was.<p>

For her it came naturally but for him it meant putting on an act. Cal hated it and it was tiring. And he swore that once their company_ really_ took off he'd never do it again.

He longed for the time when they could pick and choose their clients. Instead of the other way around.

But he also knew that the exhaustion he felt was compounded by everything else. The heated argument he'd had with Zoe when she told him she was leaving for Chicago on a moment's notice. Again. The worry he felt when Emily got sick.

Once he got to the door of his room, Cal rummaged through his pant pocket for the plastic key card, trying not to drop the bag of Chinese take-out he was holding in the other hand. He was starving and he figured Foster probably was too.

That is, if Emily's stomach bug hadn't killed her appetite by now.

When he found his key he opened the door to find both daughter and partner dozing on the couch in the room. Emily was spread out horizontally across the whole thing, covered with a blanket, her head resting on Gillian's lap.

Foster was dozing too, sitting in the corner of the sofa, her feet on the coffee table, one arm lazily draped over his daughter, the other one underneath her cheek, where it doubled as a pillow.

The sight made him smile and he fought back the urge to take a snapshot with his mobile phone camera.

But he didn't do it because he knew if Zoe ever saw it, it would only instigate another argument.

He'd have to store this one in his memory instead.

Cal quietly set down the food and squeezed Gillian's shoulder, watching as she stirred awake with a yawn.

"Hey..."

Her pupils slowly focused on him. "Hi."

"How's she doing?" he asked in a whisper.

"Better...I think. She stopped puking a few hours ago."

Cal grimaced. "Nothing left to throw up?"

"Yeah...probably." Gillian stretched, her gaze going to the items scattered over the TV table. "I gave her some crackers and ginger ale to settle her stomach and she was able to keep it down. She had a bit of a fever too, so I made her take some children's Tylenol. After all that and two hours of Hannah Montana...she finally fell asleep." She brushed a strand of hair from Emily's face. "Poor thing."

"You got all that stuff from the lobby gift shop?"

"No, I made the concierge run to the drug store for me. You owe me thirty bucks."

"For crackers, ginger ale and Tylenol?"

"For that and the twenty dollar tip I gave him."

Cal chuckled. Of course she did. "Right then."

All things considered, he probably owed her more than that.

"One of the benefits of staying at a full-service hotel," she reminded him.

"Another dig at my choice of accommodations? Really, Foster?"

"Yes...it is," she sighed. "I get we're on a budget, but there were drug dealers outside my window at the last hotel, Cal_. Drug dealers_!"

"You sure they weren't trading baseball cards?"

Gillian rolled her eyes.

"Alright, alright..." Maybe it was time to concede defeat on this issue. Especially after she'd spent the day taking care of his vomiting kid. "No more booking us at crap hotels to save money. Promise."

No more travelling and chasing clients across the country, that was the next promise he wanted to make both of them.

Gillian nodded. "Thanks."

Cal undid his tie and felt the exhaustion slowly seep from his bones, unburdening him. Maybe a big part of it had been worrying about Emily on top of everything else. Guilt for dragging her across the country for his work, when really she should've been their first priority.

_At least I left you in good hands. _

He looked at Foster, wearing a sweat shirt and a pair of pyjama pants, till stuck underneath his daughter. He'd never seen her quite so casual. So relaxed. Funny, how after nearly a year of working together so closely, there were still so many sides of each other they didn't know. Hadn't seen yet.

"How'd it go with Gordon?" she asked him.

"Got ourselves another client. He'll start sending us the video in a week or so."

"Hey, that's great! See, you don't need me on these trips."

"Nice try." Cal held out his hand to her. "How 'bout you extricate yourself from my daughter and join me for dinner?"

Gillian looked hesitant. "I don't know...I don't want to wake her."

"She's a deep sleeper," Cal assured her as he grabbed a pillow, gently lifting his daughter's head off Foster's lap and placing the pillow underneath.

Gillian inched her way out from under her, stumbling like a drunk when she got up.

"Foster?"

She groaned. "I think my entire left side fell asleep from sitting like that."

Cal chuckled. "Ah come on...tell me the truth. You hit the mini-bar."

She did hit him with a sofa pillow as she shook her arm, trying to restore the flow of blood. "That does sound like a good idea."

"Grab a scotch or two for me too," he told her.

"What'd you get us?" she asked him, coming back from the mini-fridge with two small bottles of liquor in her hands, checking out the bag on the bed. "Chinese. Good choice. I'm starving."

"Even got your favourite," he told her.

"Spicy chicken fried rice?"

He took his suit jacket off and pulled out three containers of food, along with chopsticks, napkins and two cans of soda. It was messy and casual and the food was second-rate, but he felt more content right now than he had for some time.

They'd sealed another lucrative deal for the Lightman Group, his daughter was asleep and getting better on the couch beside him and his partner was sitting cross-legged across from him, her gorgeous eyes lighting up, as they always did when food was in the equation.

"Well?" Foster asked, as she reached to open one of the paper containers. "Chicken fried rice?"

He bit back a grin as he tossed her a paper bag across the bed. "No. Fortune cookies."


	21. End of the Road

**XXI) End of the Road **

Cal Lightman was leaning against the kitchen pantry, wolfing down a bowl of cereal when Zoe came in, wearing a tank top, sweat pants and running shoes. Her hair was tied back and perspiration lined her face.

He hadn't seen her leave the house for her morning jog and if he hadn't overslept he probably wouldn't have seen her come back either.

She seemed just as surprised to see him still here too.

"You're leaving late today," she mumbled, opening the fridge and reaching for a carton of orange juice.

"Alarm didn't go off," he explained. He would've left without eating but he was starving.

"Cal..."

"Yeah?"

"We need to talk."

He raised his brows as he finished his last spoonful. "About"

"Us."

A knot tightened in his stomach. She was right. They did. There was only so long they could go on the way they were without one of them imploding.

It was ironic, he thought. He who pushed, poked and prodded for the truth at every turn, had been avoiding it like the plague in his own home.

For two months he'd avoided confronting Zoe about the things he'd seen on her face, hoping they'd go away. Because no matter how miserable his marriage was right now he didn't want to even think about losing his family.

"I have a meeting in less than an hour." Even now he wasn't ready for it. "Can we do dinner tonight?"

Zoe drank some of her orange juice and gave him a sombre look. "I want to talk now."

"I can't miss this meeting."

Zoe picked up his mobile phone from the kitchen counter. "What's your work number? Do you even have a work number? _Is_ there a difference between your cell number and your work number?"

Cal tightened his lips. "I'm not the only workaholic in this family."

"Oh wait a minute..." Zoe held up her hand. "Why don't I just re-dial the last number you called?" She did precisely that and gave him a sarcastic smile when she saw the name on the call display. "Oh look...Gillian Foster, of course. Who else?"

Cal watched her in disbelief as she called the number.

"Gillian? Hi, this is Zoe. I'm calling to let you know Cal won't be making it to your morning meeting today. That's all."

Then she ended the call. Clearly without waiting for a response.

Cal cringed. "That was out of line."

"_That_..." she paused. "Was me getting you out of your meeting."

Nobody did pissed off quite as well Zoe Lightman and Cal guessed this was just the tip of the iceberg. The truth was coming his way whether he liked it or not.

"And now we finally have time to talk," she added, sitting down at the pantry across from him. "Why don't you go ahead and ask me what you've been dying to ask me for months now."

Cal was irritated already. How did she always end up calling all the shots? "I don't know what you're talking about."

She smirked and pointed her index finger at his face. "Now _that's _a lie...I don't even have to look at the lines in your face or the way you tilt your head or whatever the hell it is that you look for in liars to know that."

"What do you want me to ask you, Zoe?" He didn't have the patience for this.

"Oh come on, Cal. Just spit it out."

The sad thing was he did know exactly what she was talking about. What question she wanted him to ask.

"Go on..." she pressed. "Just say it. Maybe the answer will surprise you."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Ask me."

"Ask you what?"

"You know exactly what."

He didn't want to say it. But he knew she'd push and push and push until he did. "Are you having an affair?"

Her big dark eyes met his. "No. I'm not."

She was telling the truth. Terrible as he was at reading her, he knew it with certainty this time.

He felt relief but it wasn't nearly as massive as he thought it would be considering all the frustration he'd bottled up over the last couple of months.

But he did feel relief because this meant he might not lose his family after all. That maybe all their discontent of late was just an overdue seven-year itch. Maybe there was even a way to get back what they used to have.

"But I have met someone."

Cal swallowed, feeling as though he'd been slapped. Out of nowhere. She might as well have. Slapped him.

"You _met_ someone?"

"I met someone in Chicago."

Cal's cheeks started to burn and he who was never at a loss of words couldn't get a single one out right now.

"His name is Ryan and he's a lawyer working on my case."

She said it so matter-of-factly. As if she was telling him the name of the car service she always used from O'Hare.

"We went out for lunch a few times."

She must've seen the incredulous expression on his face. "Business lunches," she clarified. "And then there were business dinners...and then..." She didn't meet his eyes this time. "There were just dinners. Dinners that had nothing to do with business."

"Why are you telling me this?" he managed to croak out.

"I kissed him that night in Chicago."

Cal clenched his fist.

"I kissed him and I wanted..." She stopped and then he saw it again. The guilt he'd read all over her face all these nights ago. "I wanted to do more than that."

"I think I've heard enough..." Cal wanted to bang his fist against a wall. Wanted to grab Zoe too. But of course he wouldn't.

"That's why I came home that night...because I knew if I'd stayed I would've done something that I swore to myself that I would never do."

Cal wondered whether that was supposed to make him feel better.

"I came home early that night and I find your business partner sleeping in our house..."

Cal almost choked. "Is that supposed to make _me_ feel guilty? The fact that Foster had a bloody nap on our couch while _you _were kissing other men in Chicago!"

"One man. Singular."

"Well, that makes it alright then," he sneered.

Zoe put her elbows on the pantry and leaned in towards him, her voice softening. "I came back home because I desperately needed a reminder that I had a marriage worth fighting for and instead I find another woman asleep on my couch!"

"Oh please...don't you try and turn this around." Zoe could argue the merits of any case. No matter how ludicrous. Sometimes he thought she missed her calling. Should have been a defense attorney instead. But this was a stretch. Even for her.

"I also came home to you reading me," she went on. "Even though you know much I hate it."

"So you drop this bombshell on me...and then try to make me feel bad for_ reading you_?" How could they still be having this discussion after all their years of marriage? How could she still not understand that he couldn't just turn it off? That it was like asking him to stop seeing. Or breathing.

"I know you can't turn it off..." She added, reading his thoughts. "But you_ like_ that excuse because you've never trusted me a single day in our entire marriage."

"Apparently I was right not to!"

She glared at him. "Accuse someone falsely often enough and they will end up actually doing it."

Cal looked at her and for the first time since she'd sat down across from him he didn't just see the anger but the hurt and the resignation too.

If he were to read his own face, he pictured his own emotions mimicking hers. Anger, hurt and resignation. "You accuse me of not trusting you, but the first thing you think when you see my business partner at our house is that...I'm sleeping with her. You're just an incapable of trusting me, Zoe."

Zoe exhaled. "In all our years together, I've never felt threatened by another woman. But with Gillian, it's..."

"It's_ what_?"

Zoe ran her index finger along the rim of her glass. Pensive. "Never mind."

Cal couldn't read her at all in that instant. Not that he wanted to. For once, the only thing he noticed was how beautiful she was. It was how he loved her the most. In the morning, after her jog, with her hair messily tied back. Without her cell phone and briefcase and power suit. The casual, vibrant Zoe sitting across from him reminded him of the woman he first fell head over heels in love with, a lifetime ago.

"Where does this leave us?"

"We're too alike, aren't we, Cal?" she asked him. "That's really our problem isn't it? You're jealous, I'm jealous. You have a temper, I have a temper. You're a workaholic, I'm a workaholic...I think maybe we both need someone who's a little less like us."

He wanted to ask her what this Ryan was like. Whether the guy was different enough to make her happy.

Cal knew what was coming even though he wasn't ready to accept it. "You didn't answer my question."

Zoe raised her chin so her eyes could meet his. "I want a separation."

Cal swallowed again, feeling as though his world was coming apart at the seams. Ripped apart by the woman he loved.

"I need to leave this marriage," she added sadly. "Before I do something that I swore I never would."


	22. Labour Pains

**XXII) Labour Pains **

Gillian Foster shook the young woman's hand and stole a quick glance at the clock hanging on the wall of the office. "Thanks for coming, Wei-Ling. It was really nice to meet you."

The woman looked at the Cube, full of admiration. "I know you're supposed to be cool and all that at job interviews, but just the idea of getting a chance to work on that...oh my god, it would so beyond amazing."

Gillian smiled. "I'll be in touch. Promise."

"Thank you again, Dr. Foster. It was such a pleasure."

Gillian walked her out and closed the office door behind her. She hadn't quite finished closing it when she felt a tug on the other side as Cal pulled to open it.

"Who was that?" he demanded, pointing down the hallway where the young woman was now waiting for the elevator.

"Good morning to you too."

"I didn't know we had a client in this morning."

"It wasn't a client. That was Wei-Ling Zhang, the behavioural science grad student from Yale. One of our research assistant applicants. The interview went very well. I really liked her."

"You interviewed her without me?"

Gillian didn't miss the accusatory tone in his voice and it ticked her off. "I interviewed her without because you weren't here. Because lately you decide to show up whenever you want. Did you notice it's almost eleven? You do wear a ridiculously expensive Swiss watch. Is it not working?"

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Foster."

Gillian bit her tongue. He'd been in a mood all week. Something was gnawing at him and he wouldn't share it with her. As a result he antagonised her at every turn and she was this close to throwing something at him.

But they needed staff. Desperately. Getting into a heated argument with Cal wouldn't get anything done this morning and she so badly wanted to get this done. She so badly didn't want anything to mess up the weekend getaway to Hilton Head that she'd planned with Alec.

It would be the first time they had two uninterrupted days together since she started the Lightman Group well over a year ago. If work screwed this up she _would_ lose it.

"I also found someone for the administrative position we posted. Anna Lettieri. The lady you talked to on the phone a couple of days ago. She came in to see me and I think she'll be a great fit."

Cal squinted and cocked his head sideways when he looked at her. It was what he did when he was concentrating and trying to figure something out.

He was reading her and he was doing it in a way that was so in-her-face that it touched her every nerve.

"Is this the Foster Group now?"

Gillian clenched her fist. She could handle his moods. Could handle the abrasiveness and the bluntness and the insensitivity. Because she knew that all of that wasn't the sum of the man he was. That it was more of a wall and an act than he would ever admit to himself.

But even she had her limits.

"Excuse me?"

"Do we even have enough in the bank for_ two_ new employees?"

"We were going to hire two people six months ago! When we first started cutting a profit. Six months ago, Cal! And now...we keep taking on new cases and it's still just the two of us doing everything! The research, the administrative work...the actual leg work. _Everything!_ We put in fourteen, fifteen hour days...sometimes six, seven days a week...how long do you think we can keep doing that?" She could almost feel the tears welling up at the base of her eyes as they often did when something upset her. She hated it when it happened in moments like this. At work, where it made the feminist in her cringe.

Maybe if she wasn't always so tired. And maybe if on top of everything she did around here she wouldn't also have a partner who seemed hell-bent on fighting her every step of the way these days.

"You're tired of it, Foster, is that it?"

"What do you think, Cal?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

"I won't keep putting in these hours...not when there's no rhyme or reason for it. Not when we can easily afford the staff we need so badly." Her eyes searched him for a sign that she was getting through to his thick skull. "No matter how much the Lightman Group means to me...I am not ruining my marriage over this company!"

She saw him flinch and didn't know what to make of it. She'd pushed a button somewhere.

"Then go ahead and quit."

Gillian looked at him in disbelief. _Really? _

_That_ was the kind of nasty flippancy she might've expected from her old bosses at the Pentagon. Had they said it, it would rolled off her shoulders. But this was coming from her partner. Her _friend_. One of the few friends she still had left in her life considering that all she did these days was work.

And it stung.

Gillian snatched her purse from her desk and tossed him the folders she was still holding after the interview. Cal caught a couple but the rest fell to the floor, scattering the papers that were inside them all around his feet.

"You know what, Cal? I might just do that."

She walked to the elevator in quick, hurried steps, grateful that he hadn't followed her and proud of herself that she'd held back her tears long enough for her to step into the elevator and watch the doors close.

_That is one satisfaction I'm not giving you today._

By the time they did start rolling down her cheeks, she was already in the parking garage.

She quietly wiped them away, got in her car and started driving.

Away from the damn office.

* * *

><p>Gillian drove out of the city and headed south to Alexandria, because she needed to get out of DC. If only for a few hours.<p>

She parked in the Old Town and then strolled around until she found a cafe with a patio.

And that's where she sat for over two hours, drinking a latte of sorts, one with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle on top. Then she ordered a piece of homemade carrot cake with butter cream icing. It was sinfully good and she ate it slowly, savouring every bite while soaking in the sun and watching pedestrians stroll by.

"Can I get you anything else?" a young waiter asked her after a while.

Gillian shook her head. "No...this is perfect."

It was. Perfect. And it was exactly what she needed.

* * *

><p><em>Later <em>

It was late afternoon by the time she finally got back into the office. _Their_ office.

That was the problem when you shared an office. There wasn't a door to slam shut when you had a heated argument.

She knew they had a client that would've come in about an hour ago. An interview in the Cube. Although the machine could be operated by one, Cal would've had a hell of a time doing it all on his own.

Not that she cared just then. In fact she'd be lying if she said she didn't feel just a little glee knowing that he would have struggled.

He was sitting at his desk now, when she entered their office.

It was a mess. Full of scattered papers, folders, binders, books, a lap-top, two cups that he used for tea, one of which was dirty, and a couple of photos of Emily and Zoe. There wasn't an inch of visible desk space.

By contrast, her desk was neat and organized. One stack of folders, a pen holder, a clean coffee mug, a small bowl of candies and a closed lap-top. And one framed wedding photo of her and Alec.

Cal didn't meet her eyes when she entered the room and for the first few moments they shared an uncomfortable silence.

She wasn't sure what she expected. More anger? Outrage that she'd stormed out? Sarcasm?

"So... those women you interviewed," he finally mumbled. "You think they're good, yeah?"

Gillian sat down at her desk, facing him. His gaze focused on a little rubber ball that was sitting on his desk. The kind you squeezed when it wasn't socially acceptable to wring the neck of the actual cause of your frustration.

"Yes, I think they're good."

"Make them an offer then."

"You don't want to meet them?"

He pursed his lips, as if debating the notion for about half a second before shaking his head. "I trust you."

Gillian walked over to his desk and pushed away a stack of paper so she could lean on the edge. Cal Lightman was remorseful for what had transpired this morning. She could read him well enough to know that but she also knew that it was an emotion he didn't how to handle. As a result there were other sentiments playing on his face too. He was miserable. Defeated. Apologetic even. Although he'd probably never admit it.

But now that she actually took the time to really look at him Gillian noticed other things too. The exhaustion and the deep circles under his eyes. The three-day beard and the un-ironed shirt he wore. The same one he'd worn yesterday. And most of all, there was sadness. It encompassed every other emotion on his face.

"What's going on, Cal?" she asked softly. "This past week...you haven't been yourself. This...this constant arguing. You provoking me all the time. This isn't us. And it isn't you."

He nodded in acknowledgement. "I know."

"What's happening?"

"Zoe left last week."

Gillian raised her brows. This wasn't what she expected. "What do you mean..._left_?"

"She left. Moved out. Two weeks ago she told me she wanted a separation and then she left."

She didn't know what to say. "Oh god...I'm sorry."

He met her eyes for the first time. "It's alright...should've seen it coming. Me, of all people."

"What about Emily?" She was almost afraid to ask. She knew he loved that little girl more than anything else in the world. She couldn't imagine Cal losing her.

"She's gonna stay with her Mum during the week. Zoe got a rental townhouse in our neighbourhood so Em can stay in the same school. I'll probably get her on weekends. I don't think there'll be a custody issue if we end up divorcing. Zoe's not trying to take her from me."

Gillian lowered her shoulders. It all made sense now. His erratic, confrontational behaviour. The sadness she saw. She only wished he would've told her sooner.

"Do you need some time off?" she offered.

"So I can brood about it?" He mustered a lop-sided smile. "Besides, I thought we were short-staffed."

Gillian didn't care about this morning anymore. Now all she cared about was him. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Yeah..." He met her eyes again. "Don't take me seriously when I'm being a wanker."

She gave him a lop-sided smile of her own. "Alright."

"And don't quit." He fiddled with his stress-ball and mumbled something she wasn't sure she ever heard him say. "Please."

"Okay." Gillian reached across his desk and enveloped his fisted hand with both of her own, holding on to it tightly. "Deal."


	23. Take Down

A/N: The next six or seven chapters will be part of a mini-story arc (once again, so much for brevity! I give up! LOL) that was inspired by a scene from an episode called "Secret Santa" in season 2 of the show.

It's a short but poignant scene, just before Cal leaves for Afghanistan, that has always made me curious. As he's about to leave, Gillian warns him that he can't "go to that place again" and her goodbye to him is a reminder that "fear is nothing."

I wondered what exactly Gillian was referring to in that scene and I don't recall the show ever mentioning it again (granted I might've missed it). It made me think that at one point during their mutual past Cal must've had a meltdown of sorts and that it was triggered by something violent.

This is my take on what it might have been.

As always, big thanks for reading and even bigger thanks to those taking your time to leave me your feedback. Always totally appreciated!

* * *

><p><strong>XXIII) Take Down <strong>

"I have a bad feeling about this."

Cal watched as she bit her nails, something she rarely did. "It's gonna be fine. We're going to go in, identify a few voices and then leave. That's it."

"This guy's a criminal, Cal. I don't want us doing business with him. It's not worth it...no matter how much he pays us."

Cal was about to park his car next to Riley's, the black Suburban with tinted windows. Then he changed his mind, moving it to the rear of the warehouse instead, narrowly avoiding a giant pothole in the road. There no one could see it.

"Why are we parking so far away?" Foster questioned, not impressed at having to walk through the unpaved road with her heels.

She tucked a curl behind her ear after it dangled over her eyes and checked her make-up in the rear-view mirror. Gillian cut her hair last week. It was much shorter now, barely reaching her shoulders and instead of being perfectly straight and long it was full of waves and curls.

She'd told him the way she wore it now was much closer to its natural state.

_"With the hours we put in, I decided I could use the extra twenty minutes in bed, instead of using the time to straighten my hair."_

The new style was growing on him, but sometimes, like now, he felt like he was looking at a stranger. Funny how you got used to certain things. Like the length of your partner's hair.

"Old habits," he explained. "Parking out of view."

"I mean it," Gillian reminded him. "I know he's your friend, but I won't do business with him anymore."

"Alright," he conceded with uncustomary ease. The thing was, he did have a bad feeling about this one. Didn't really want to do it. But he promised Riley. "This is the last one. From now on you can vet all our cases."

"I'm going to hold you to that."

He agreed because Foster was right this time. Even if Riley had saved his life in Belfast. Even if he paid better than any of their other clients, it wasn't worth it. This was not the path he wanted their company to go down. Not now when they were finally making a name for themselves.

"Cal..."

"Yeah?" He turned to her, able to not only see her fear but hearing it this time too. Just as she was getting better at reading faces, he was getting better at reading voices.

"If I get caught doing something illegal...there go my chances of adopting."

_Bloody hell, Gill. Why are you telling me this? _

The guilt suddenly hit him. Part of him wanted to tell her to take the car and drive it back to the office by herself. To get out of here. Just in case. But the problem was for this one, he needed her.

He wasn't the one who never forgot a voice.

Neither of them moved to get out of the car after he parked it.

"It's gonna be over before you know it. We're going to go in, you're going to tell him which voice was the one we heard on the tape and that's it."

She turned to him, nodding. Trusting him in spite of her unease. "Alright, let's do it."

Riley and his two men were already inside the abandoned warehouse when they got there and stepped inside. The Irishman walked up to Foster, holding out his hand. "So you're the voice lady, eh?"

Foster shook his hand. "You can call me Gillian."

Cal wasn't in the mood for pleasantries. He wanted to know what exactly they were doing.

"Listening," Riley explained, handing them each a small headphone. "Jimmy here's wearing a wire. You're gonna hear the men we're meeting with through that."

"Where are we going to be when we're listening in?"

Riley pointed to a bunch of empty storage containers. "Behind those. Out of sight. They can't see you or hear you."

"And if they do?" Cal pressed.

"They won't," Riley assured him. "Trust me. No way me or my men will let that happen." He slapped his shoulder. "You're my mate, Cal. I look after my mates."

They took the headphones and stepped behind the boxes, into an enclave of sorts, well hidden from the main area where the others were due to meet with Riley and his men, and waited.

After a half an hour, both of them sat down on the cold cement floor, resting against the containers.

"What's taking so long?" Gillian asked Cal, whispering.

"Dunno."

They waited another twenty minutes before the doors of the building finally opened.

Both of them jumped to their feet.

The conversation between the men echoed in their ears. Four new voices were in the room, four men in total had come to meet with Riley and his two men.

Cal watched as Foster's face was etched in concentration, listening to them.

"Which one is it?" Cal whispered. He'd heard the tape too, but he didn't recognize any of them as being the one Riley was looking for. Not that he could say it with certainty. He didn't have an ear for this stuff.

"None of them," Gillian whispered back.

"_Are you sure_?" It had to be one of the four. Riley had been certain.

"Yes. I'm sure." Foster insisted. "None of them match."

They heard the door of the warehouse opening and then, out of nowhere, a fifth voice filled the room.

"Surprise, Riley."

"_That's _the one." Gillian whispered to him, her eyes widening in fear because she picked up something else in his voice that Cal didn't catch.

It didn't matter what it was. Because it was the last thing he heard her say before the deafening roar of gunfire filled the warehouse, drowning out all other sounds.


	24. Escape

**XXIV) Escape **

It was instinct that took over the moment he heard the sound of gunfire.

Instinct that made him push Foster to the ground and cover her body with his, until the ear-shattering sounds ended. Until, finally, thankfully, the only thing he heard was silence and then footsteps leaving the building. A heavy door slammed shut behind them.

Cal pushed himself off her after that, noticing how still she was underneath him. Noticing that her eyes were closed.

"Foster?"

Had he pushed her hard enough to knock her out?

It was a cement floor, she could've hit her head when he tackled her onto it. In fact, she probably did.

One of his hands inched underneath the back of her head, lifting it off the ground.

"Foster?" he whispered. Not sure why. The men had left the building. No one could hear them. "Come on, luv. Wake up."

Foster reacted by groaning and opening her eyes in response.

_Thank god. _

"Cal...?" She grimaced as her pupils focused, as if remembering where she was.

A smell wafted into his nostrils and Cal felt a sudden chill travelling up his spine. Smoke. Whoever started this massacre was planning to end it by setting the building on fire.

They had to get out of the building. But if they got out while the killers were still outside, they'd be dead too.

Cal's heart raced.

_What the hell did I get us into? _

He pushed himself onto his knees before standing up, before pulling up Foster, who was unsteady on her feet. One of her hands rested on the back of her head.

He had pushed her hard enough to knock her out, if only briefly. But it compounded his guilt.

"You alright?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Fine."

It was a ridiculous question. Neither of them were fine. The smell of smoke was stronger now and he could see it too, filling the room as he emerged from behind the storage containers, pulling Foster along with him.

There were three dead men on the ground. Riley and his two men. There was no need to check for vital signs. Their bodies were riddled with countless bullet holes and a giant pool of blood was filling up around them.

Cal swallowed, feeling nauseous now.

Gillian gasped when she saw the bodies.

"Don't look at them!" He ordered her, his mouth dry as sandpaper. He didn't need that image seeping into her brain. Staying there and haunting her.

The smoke was getting thicker, making them both cough. Masking the dead men. "We have to get out of here...but not while the men who did this might still be out there," he explained.

"Cal..." Her look was one of pure terror now. "If we don't get out...we're going to die in here."

He turned to her. "I'm gonna get us out of here. But you have to trust me and not panic. Can you do that?"

She nodded. "Okay..."

Cal grabbed a baseball cap from one of the dead men and handed it to her. "Hold this over your mouth," he told her. "For the smoke."

Cal cautiously moved towards one of the windows, noticing that he was shaking too. He'd been in battlefields before. Urban and otherwise. Northern Ireland. Yugoslavia. It had left him scarred in more ways than one, but at least back then he'd been moderately prepared. Had known what he was in for.

This attack had come out of nowhere. And this time it wasn't just his life on the line.

"Cal!"

Cal whirled around.

"Oh god...it's burning!" Gillian cried out. There was a wall of flames creeping up behind her now.

_Bloody hell. _

Cal's heart pounded as he sneaked a peek through the window. The attackers were just now getting into their cars. They'd waited to see if the fire was spreading.

"We have to get out now," Gillian pleaded. The smoke was thicker now and he could feel the heat from the fire. It was clouding their vision.

"Not yet."

If they ran out now they'd be dead.

"Cal...please." Tears rimmed her eyes.

"We have to let them drive off."

Cal looked at the door they came in from. If they waited too long the fire might block their exit. He hoped to hell they didn't lock the door shut. _Why would they? Dead men don't run out of buildings. _

"Cal..."

He coughed as his lungs started to burn. It was getting unbearably hot. "One more minute."

The second car was about to drive off. _Hit the damn gas petal already! _

Finally. They were out of sight.

He grabbed Gillian by the wrist and made a run for the door. "Now!"

_Please don't be locked._

The flames were so close to them now, he could've sworn he could feel them against his skin. He put an arm around Foster's shoulder as they approached the door, shielding her from them.

It opened and suddenly they were outside. A cloud of smoke came billowing out behind them.

He turned around to see the door catching fire. Gillian doubled over, coughing.

He grabbed her hand again, barely able to get any air into his own lungs. "We've got to get out of here before the fire department gets here."

It was the scene of a crime but the thought of staying didn't even cross his mind. All he needed was for them to get away. Escape.

They half ran, half stumbled back to his car. Thank god he'd parked it where the others hadn't seen it.

Once inside, Cal hit the gas pedal before they had a chance to close their doors.


	25. After Shock

**XXV) After Shock **

It was dark outside now and neither of them had said a word since they got back to the office. There was no one else there. Anna and Wei-Ling already left for the day, which meant there was no need for explanations. For why their clothes were full of dust and grime.

Both of them sat at their desks, staring into space, an empty glass of brandy in front of each of them.

It was Gillian who broke the silence.

"We should call the police," she said softly.

He looked at her. She was as shell-shocked as he was. Probably more so.

"And say what exactly?"

Her eyes met his and he spotted anger in them this time. "I don't know? The truth maybe? That we were there to listen in on a meeting and instead we saw three men get gunned down?"

"We didn't _see_ anything, Foster," he reminded her. How the hell could they explain this without incriminating themselves in the process? Without dooming their company just as it was starting to take off?

"So we just...say nothing? Pretend today didn't happen? What if...what if they somehow trace something back to us? The police has sophisticated equipment these days."

"What could they trace back to us?" Cal asked her. "They burned the building down."

"What about the car? Tire tracks?"

"I drive a cheap Ford," he reminded her. "It's probably the most common make of car in the entire US."

"So...we say nothing and cross our fingers?"

Cal swallowed, watching as she got up to pour herself some more brandy. Her hands were shaking too hard to hold up the carafe. He got up and helped her.

Foster, normally so cool and composed, looked like a mess. There was a dirt stain on the side of her face and her suit jacket had a tear in one of the arms.

"How's your head?" he asked, moving a hand towards the back of her head, shocked to see a sizeable bump forming underneath her dishevelled hair.

"Ouch..." she protested, shirking away from his touch. "It's fine if you don't touch it."

"That...doesn't look fine," he disagreed, chiding himself for not thinking to ask her sooner. "Let's go to a hospital, get it checked out," he told her. "You could have a concussion. You blacked out back at the warehouse." He'd almost forgotten that too.

"No, I didn't."

"Yeah, you did."

"Cal!" she glared at him. "A bump on the head is not my biggest worry right now!"

He watched her take another sip of the brandy. Shaking his head. If she did have a concussion, that was a lousy idea too. Then again, was there any part of today that wasn't a lousy idea? What was one more?

She sighed. "What in the world are we going to do?"

Cal poured himself some more brandy too. "I don't know." It was the truth. He really had no damn clue where to go from here.

Foster winced as she took off her suit jacket and he noticed that her elbow, where the jacket was torn, was a mess; a mix of dried blood and dirt. Probably from when he tackled her to the ground.

Cal walked over to the first aid kit and opened it. Grabbed some anti-septic cream and large band-aids. "Lemme clean that."

"Just leave it."

"Let me do _something_, would you?" he barked. Anything to still his racing thoughts. To set something right again in this mess of a day. "Foster?"

Gillian sat back down at her desk, closed her eyes for a moment and held out her arm. "Alright."

She was completely still while she watched him in action. It impressed him that she didn't even flinch while he cleaned the scrapes on her elbow. He hadn't expected his feminine, romance-novel reading partner to be quite so tough.

"Cal..." she said softly.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry about Riley. I know he was your friend."

"Yeah," he mumbled accepting her condolences. Friend was an exaggeration. "I didn't know, Gill."

"Didn't know what?"

"That he was doing what he did. Back in Belfast he was a small time crook. Poker schemes. Money laundering. Gambling cons. Not...this. Not gangs and murder."

Gillian said nothing, her blue eyes reading his.

"If I knew I would never have..."

"I know, " she cut him off before they retreated back into silence. Sitting across from each other without a word, until the adrenaline wore off and the exhaustion hit both of them like a tonne of bricks.

Cal's limbs felt heavy and immobile and he figured Foster had to be feeling it even more. He should take her home. She was in no shape to drive.

"Whatever you want to do about this, I'll go along," he announced finally.

"What?"

"If you want to go to police, we'll go. I don't think we should, but I won't make that decision for both of us." The truth was they _hadn't_ seen anything. No faces, no license plate numbers. Nothing that would be of any use to the police, except for a man's voice that Foster would recognize _if_ she heard it again. An unidentified voice, belonging to a man they didn't know.

They should call the police because it was the right thing to do. It was a matter of obeying the law. Helping them get these guys in any way they could. Never mind easing their conscience.

But it would taint the Lightman Group forever. Possibly even destroy it.

Gillian exhaled, debating it in silence for a long moment before finally meeting his gaze, her expression determined. She'd come to the same conclusion.

"No. No police."


	26. Secrets

**XXVI) Secrets **

Cal watched her swallow two pills with her afternoon coffee, something he'd caught her doing at least once a day since that afternoon. A subtle little reminder that what happened five days ago was real. Not some morbid nightmare they just happened to share.

He also saw her rubbing her eyes before focusing on the video screen in front of them.

Cal focused on her instead. "Headaches still bothering you?"

Foster took another sip of coffee. "They'll go away."

He turned off the video screen. "Go home, Foster. Go lie down in a dark room somewhere. It's bad enough you never went to a doctor." He was familiar enough with the symptoms she'd shown, to know that she had at least a mild concussion. He'd been through more than one himself. She was right, the headaches would go away, but it might take a few weeks.

She eyed him. "What's a doctor going to say that you haven't already told me?"

"He'd tell you not to stare at computer screens all day. Not to drive."

Gillian yawned. "I have a bump on the head, Cal, not a concussion. Get that into your thick skull."

Foster was one to talk when it came to thick skulls. On the outside she was all compromise and diplomacy, but in reality she was just as stubborn as he was.

Still, she leaned back in her chair, not protesting when he decided to call it a day.

"What'd you tell Alec?" he wanted to know. They'd hardly talked about the shootings since they happened. Gone about their business while that elephant quietly sat in the room next to them.

"That I fell down a flight of stairs at work."

"He bought it?"

"Gave me a lecture on wearing more sensible shoes."

Cal chuckled. "Wish him good luck."

"Hey! You love my shoes."

"Nah...just the legs in them."

"Thanks." The corner of her lips curled into a smile. "You know...he's been spoiling me since that night, Cal. It's weird...he insists on cooking dinner, gives me impromptu massages and all sorts of attention that I'm not sure what to do with."

"Enjoy it while it lasts."

Foster deserved it. Too bad it took a bump on the head for her tosser of a husband to realize it.

"Oh, I will." Her hand went to the back of her head, massaging it subconsciously. "How are _you _doing?"

"Splendid."

She leaned in towards him, her expression serious. Concerned. "I'm serious. You look like you haven't slept since that day."

That's what they kept calling it. _That day_. Neither of them had to ask the other whether they'd told anyone else about it. They both knew they wouldn't. They'd take it to their graves, Cal knew that with certainty.

"I haven't slept much," he admitted. Every time his head neared the pillow he thought how close they'd come to losing their lives. It didn't help that Zoe wasn't next to him anymore. Didn't help that he didn't have a single distraction to take his mind off that day.

It didn't help that it was still possible the police would come knocking on their doors one day in the near future, arresting them for leaving the scene of a crime. But more than that, it took him back to a time he thought he'd finally forgotten. "You?"

"Getting better. Haven't had any nightmares the last two nights." She got up, came around the table and pulled up a chair next to him. "It's not just that day that's bugging you, is it? It's more than that."

Cal eyed her. She was getting way too good at this reading thing. And he had no one to blame but himself. He kept teaching her whenever they had a free minute.

"Want to tell me?"

"No."

"Sometimes it helps," she offered.

"Catharsis is an overrated pop-psychology trend. As scientists, you and I both know that."

She smiled. "Not trying to be your therapist. Just your friend."

He nodded. "I know." It _was _easy to confide in her. Too easy almost. He rambled and ranted and theorized, while she listened and observed and took it all in. The extrovert and the introvert. Ying and yang.

Because of it, the words just tumbled out when he was near her.

"It's not the first time I was in a room where men were being gunned down in front of me."

* * *

><p>"Tell me about it..." she said softly.<p>

"You're gonna make me sit on your couch again."

"Not if you don't want to. But...if you do, then yes. I'll do whatever it takes to help you."

He nodded. It wasn't as though she needed to say it. They'd long since moved past that stage in their friendship.

"Years ago, before Zoe and Em, I did some work for the RUC..." Cal stopped when he saw her puzzled expression.

"Royal Ulster Constabulary," he explained. "It was a special police branch in Northern Ireland that dealt with terrorism before MI5 took over. I did some undercover work, trying to help them tell apart the angry teenagers throwing bottles from the guys who were serious about it. The ones who'd end up walking into mall with a bomb tied to their waist."

Gillian didn't say anything. Letting him continue as she took it in. Typical Foster.

"Spent a few days with an angry young kid named Sean. Figured he was dabbling in the IRA because he was bored, dirt poor kid going nowhere fast. Didn't see anything beyond that. Until we were at a pub one Sunday night. It was full of English soldiers and then out of nowhere Sean yanks a gun from his satchel and starts shooting. Emptying an entire cartridge until one of the soldiers shoots back and kills him. Six people died that day."

He stared at Foster's eyes. It was hard not to sometimes. But today it was to gauge her reaction to what he'd said. "I know what you're thinking. That I blame myself. For the people that died then and the three men that died last week."

"Do you?"

He'd spent the three months following that attack in the pub in a drunken stupor. Then he'd forced himself to get help and moved to the US. Away from that part of the world. Part of him wanted to tell her as much but he didn't. He'd sworn he'd never go down that path again and was convinced he wouldn't.

"I didn't see it. And I should have. It's that simple. So you see, whether I blame myself or not doesn't matter. Those are the facts."

"It matters to me."

Cal shrugged his shoulders. It's not that he didn't believe her. But the truth was that didn't matter either. It wouldn't bring back Riley and the two dead men.

"Cal...the bulk of the cases I treated at the Pentagon were soldiers with PTSD. It got to the point where I got very good at diagnosing it." She paused as she often did mid-conversation. He saw the genuine compassion in her eyes and imagined that her treatment success rate must've been stellar. Scientific data had long since proven that the most effective therapies were those where you had a therapist who gave a damn.

"I can see the symptoms, Cal. Especially when they're staring me in the face."

PTSD? Really? Cal wasn't buying it. Not yet.

"Why me, Gill? And not you?"

It was a dumb question, offensive almost. But nonetheless it nagged at him.

Aside from the obvious connection to his past, they'd both gone through a traumatic event last week and yet the whole bloody thing was hitting him so much harder than her. He, who was the cynic. The one who wasn't easily moved. Foster was the one who cried reading cheesy novels. He was the one who'd seen plenty of violence before. Who'd grown up in it. _He_ could handle it. Gillian, on the other hand, she saw the world through rose-coloured glasses.

He should have been immune to it. Hardened to it. And yet he was the one who couldn't sleep. Couldn't eat. Couldn't think straight.

He kept seeing the dead men, lying on the floor. Riddled with bullets, drowning in their own blood before being burned to death.

And amidst it all he kept hearing her voice.

_"If I get caught doing something illegal...there go my chances of adopting."_

_"If we don't get out...we're going to die in here." _

Three men dead and he'd almost gotten Foster killed. The guilt sat on his shoulders like a two-hundred pound gorilla.

"You want a list?"

Cal sighed. No, he didn't need a pat on the back. If that's where she was going he'd cut her off quick.

"I'm serious," she said, reading him.

"I don't need..."

But she cut him off. "Whenever I look back on the whole thing, I realize I was in a daze for most of it. Thanks to you."

"Is this supposed to make me feel better? You reminding me that I gave you a concussion?"

"I'm reminding you that you saved my life."

Cal exhaled. Funny how that part wasn't really in his memories.

He felt her hand on his arm, squeezing it with gentle reassurance. Everything about her was calm. Comforting. Sometimes Foster really was the anti-Zoe.

"Your first instinct that day was to make sure I was alright."

"I did a piss poor job of it. Got us into this mess to start with."

"Stop it," she cut him off. "Yeah...you knocked me out. But because of that I barely remembered what happened afterwards. I was too out of it for the three dead men on the ground to even register. Too busy panicking, while you're the one who stayed calm. The one who made sure we got out of that building alive. If it were up to me...I would've run out blindly and gotten both of us killed. You made sure that didn't happen. It's only because of you that we're sitting here having this conversation instead of lying six feet under. It's because of what you did that I've been able to handle it."

"Nice spin."

"No," she countered. "It's the truth. You, who's all about the truth, won't see it this time."

"Anything else?"

He watched her eyes narrow, irritated by his cynicism. She hid it well enough that any other patient wouldn't have been able to tell. But he wasn't any patient.

"Yeah, actually, I do have something else."

"Go on. You know I value your opinion."

"Doubt it."

_Ok, I deserved that one. That was the friend, not the therapist. _

"I go home at the end of the day and have a husband who tells me he's grateful that I'm okay, after thinking I fell down a flight of stairs and knowing I could've been hurt worse. He lets me know I've got someone who's there for me."

_Really? Did you divorce Alec and marry someone else without telling me?_

"And...you? You've had to deal with a marital separation on top of it all. You shouldn't question the fact that this has affected you, especially not after what you told me today. You should marvel that you've handled it as well as you have."

"Right then," he pursed his lips. "Thanks for that. I feel much better already."

She shook her head. He expected her to be annoyed but all he caught on her face was fatigue, compounding his guilt.

"You can give me all the sarcasm you want. It won't make me tell you what you want to hear."

"Just let it go, Foster."

"None of this was your fault. Not then, not in Northern Ireland...and not now." She reiterated, gently this time. "And I'll keep saying it until you believe it."


	27. Unconventional Therapy

**XXVII) Unconventional Therapy **

Gillian Foster gave up pacing and sat back down, staring at the empty desk across from hers in their shared office.

She raised her eyes towards the wall clock.

Ten minutes to ten.

They were expecting a potential client for a 10 o'clock meeting and Cal, who should've been here over fifty minutes ago so they could go over all the details, was nowhere in sight.

She called him. And texted him. Left messages. No answer.

As a result, she was torn between anger and worry.

She got up and walked into the adjacent room and turned to Anna who was rifling through a folder on her small desk.

"Can you keep trying to reach, Dr. Lightman?"

The young woman nodded. "Of course."

"Thank you."

Gillian knew she could handle the meeting with the client on her own. But she also knew that he'd be disappointed that Lightman himself hadn't bothered to show. That the disappointment might cost the Lightman Group the business. Not that it was a huge loss. It was a week of work at the most.

She heard the doorbell ring, straightened her back and had a quick look in the mirror before getting up to answer it.

_God, I hope you're okay, Cal. _

_And if you are I'm going to kill you. _

* * *

><p><em>Come on, luv. Wake up. <em>

_Come **on.** _

_Why wasn't she waking up? No matter what he did, she wouldn't open her eyes. _

_"Daddy!"_

_The scream pierced his ears as the flames surrounded them. He wanted to run out, away from them, but he couldn't leave Gillian just lying there. _

_"Daddy, please." Emily crying, sobbing, wailing. _

_"I'm coming, Em. I'm coming. But you have to understand, I can't leave her here." _

_The flames were so hot now he could feel them burning his skin. _

_Then he heard Zoe's voice._

_"You're going to leave your child without a father? Because you, with all your talents couldn't use them when it mattered most?" _

_There was another voice too. One he hadn't heard since he was a teenager. _

_"Why couldn't you see how desperate I was?" _

_Gillian dying. Emily crying. Zoe accusing._

_And now his mother._

_All the women in his life who meant something. He'd let down every single one of them. _

_Useless piece of shit. _

_Meanwhile the flames kept rising. Burning him alive. _

"Mum?" Cal jumped up from the couch he'd been sleeping on, nearly losing his balance and falling right off it. His heart was racing, pounding through his chest.

Cal grabbed his chest, willing it to stop beating so quickly so he could catch his breath. His head pounded too. In unison.

He also noticed that he still wore the same shirt and pants he'd sat down in last night. He hadn't bothered to change out of them. Or to shower.

He ran the inside of his hand along his cheek, feeling the roughness of his growing beard.

When he raised his chin he saw the hands of the clock on the wall ticking. And noticed the time.

_Chrissakes, how is that possible? _

He jumped off the couch for good this time, nearly tripping over the three bottles of beer that were littered over the floor. Cursing out loud, he kicked one of the bottles across the room.

It was going to be another one of those days.

* * *

><p>It went well, she decided afterwards.<p>

Or as well as it could have gone, considering that Cal wasn't there. And that her head started pounding halfway through. And that the smarmy client was more interested in her legs than in her science.

All that aside, it went well, because it ended with him signing the contract and not even bothering to negotiate the rate.

_Almost ten years of higher education and in the end it was the way I smiled at him that sealed the deal. It's sad, really. _

She was back at her desk now, in her silent office, twisting the plastic cap off a bottle of water before taking a long sip. Then she pulled open her desk drawer and took out an almost empty bottle of ibuprofen tablets. She poured two pills into the palm of her hand and swallowed them with the last of her water, before leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes.

Maybe Cal was right. Maybe she should spend a few days at home in a darkened room doing nothing. Maybe the headaches would go away sooner then.

Not that leaving the Lightman Group in Cal's hands seemed like a viable option right now.

It wasn't so much the pain that bothered her. She wasn't a wimp. She could handle the pain. It was the fact that it was so hard to concentrate when she had them. Even during the interview with her client, she had to ask him to repeat himself a few times when she lost track of what he was saying.

Thankfully he'd been too busy staring at her legs to notice her lack of focus.

Gillian's thoughts were interrupted when she heard the office door swing open.

Cal Lightman ambled in, unshaved, and most likely unwashed, and plopped himself down at his desk, across from her.

"Nice of you to show up."

"Alarm didn't go off," he explained. "Anything else you want to nag me about, Foster? Lemme know so we can get it out of the way before we start our day."

Gillian exhaled. "Some of us started our day three hours ago."

"And...anything else?"

God, he was insufferable lately. Gillian knew it was because she was his closest friend these days. Because deep down, he knew he couldtake his frustration out on her. That she could handle it. That maybe, she wouldn't take it personally.

But damn, he made it hard to not send something flying in his direction sometimes.

"Yes, there is something else. I got us another client. Lee Savitch with Westward Tech. In case you cared."

Cal snickered. "Course not. It's not like it's our company or anything."

"We're supposed to head to his office this afternoon, meet the three associates he mentioned in his initial phone call. Can you handle that?"

"Don't patronize me."

Gillian got up and closed their office door. If this was going to escalate into yet another argument, Anna and Wei-Ling didn't have to hear it.

"Uh oh, lecture time."

"No lecture," she replied, sitting back down at her own desk. She wasn't going to play his game. No matter how much he egged her on. "Just worried about you."

"Didn't we have this discussion ages ago? After which we agreed on drawing a line. Agreed to respect the line. To not probe, pester or poke our noses into each other's business unless...the other person asked for it? Or does that only apply to you?"

Gillian bit her lip. _Touché _

"I'm perfectly fine," he reiterated. "Missing a morning alarm isn't a sign of some deep seated psychosis. They did teach you that at Duke, yeah?"

"Must've missed that class. See, this is why it's your name that's on the door."

Gillian saw his frustration mellow. Could've sworn she even saw the slightest hint of a smile on his face. Maybe she hadn't lost her touch entirely.

"I'm gonna be fine," he repeated, the hostility gone this time. "I don't need you to mother me."

"Cal, you need _someone_ to!" If you won't let me in, then someone else. Someone who can help you deal with this. And you do need to deal with it! What _about_ your mother? Are you in touch with her at all?"

And just as soon as she'd seen the tension leave his face, it came back. Ten fold.

Gillian wanted to kick herself. Clearly that was a sore topic too. And now that she thought about it, it occurred to her that in all the time that she'd known him he hadn't mentioned her once. Not that she gushed about her parents to him either. But still.

"She's dead," he shot back. "_Now _can we get on with our day? Are you done psycho-analysing me?"

"Cal?"

"She was clinically depressed and she killed herself, what more do you want me to tell you, Foster."

He didn't really have to tell her anything else. His face said it all.

_You blame yourself because you couldn't see it. It's why you studied what you did. Became who you are._

_It's why it kills you every time you think something terrible happened because you couldn't see it. Couldn't stop it. _

It all made so much sense now. His reaction to what happened that day in the warehouse. The attack in Northern Ireland. The burden he carried because of what he was capable of.

"You blame yourself," she said softly.

Cal leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. "No, I don't blame myself for what happened with my mum," he told her. "I was a teenager then. Didn't know any better. But do I blame myself when I screw up now? Yeah...I do. Because now I do know better. I don't need a therapist or a mother to tell me otherwise."

"Even if you're wrong?" She leaned forward too, her eyes locking with his. "I mean, do you_ ever_ consider that you might be wrong?"

"It's not about right or wrong, Foster. Truth is I have a skill that only a handful of people in this world have. There's no point in having this skill if I can't use it when it matters most."

Gillian pushed her chair back. "Like there's no point in being a doctor unless you can save everyone all the time?"

"Drop it, would you? Mother someone else. Someone who needs it. Like your husband."

Gillian bit her tongue. "Leave Alec out of this, would you?"

"Stop trying to be my therapist! I need a partner at this office not a shrink!"

"Fine."

Gillian didn't say anything else. Instead, she got up and walked over to his desk and swung her arm across its surface, knocking everything that was in its path to the ground in one fell swoop.

Tea cups, folders, binders and books; all crashed to the ground.

Cal jumped up in shock.

"What the hell are you doing? _Have you lost your mind_?"

Gillian stared at the mess on the floor, noticing that one of his cups broke when it fell, its ceramic shards littered over a small mound of scattered paper.

"_That_," she said calmly. "Was your fault. You should have seen it coming."

He walked up to her, getting into her face. So close that she could feel his breath on her skin. "You think that's clever, yeah?" There was fury in his eyes too now and Gillian felt a touch of triumph for at least getting him to feel something other than self-loathing. "You can go to hell."

"You read faces, Cal. Not minds. Don't forget that."

His eyes bore into hers, livid. Until he finally turned his back on her and stormed out of their office. Slamming the door behind him.

It wasn't the reaction she'd hoped for but at least it was a reaction.

It was a start.


	28. Fear is Nothing

**A/N: **This was originally meant to be two chapters, but I felt like things were dragging a bit with this story arc, so I ended up merging them into one. In other words, it's long! Thanks for reading and thanks for your feedback. Always appreciated.

* * *

><p><strong>XXVIII) Fear is Nothing <strong>

"_I've been cut loose many times, you know, when the truth was inconvenient. But there's one person who caught me on the way down."_

"Cal?"

Gillian looked at him and was torn between wanting to cry and to punch the wall.

She thought she'd done everything to make sure he was ready for this. Called him twice to wake him up this morning. Gone over the proposal no less than three times. Phoned him on the way to work to make sure he'd be here on time.

Because this was too important to screw up. This could net them a major government contract which meant they could stop taking on all the mind-numbing cases they took on to pay the bills. _This_ would finally catapult them into the big leagues.

And here was Cal Lightman, standing in front of her with unwashed hair, wearing the same wrinkled shirt that he'd worn the last three days, now sporting a brand new food stain on the collar, and a faint whiff of alcohol on his breath.

"Cal?" Gillian closed her eyes and exhaled. Had to force herself to breathe and remember how much she cared about him. That _this_ wasn't who he was. "What the hell is going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"The appointment we have with FEMA this morning?" She raised her eyes towards the wall clock. The appointment they had in less than an hour. "The one I reminded you about seventeen times. You know how important this is! _You know_!"

"Yeah, I know," he shot back. Irritated already. "I'm ready."

Gillian shoved him in front of the full-length mirror behind their door, not caring that both Anna and Wei-Ling were watching the exchange and doing a poor job pretending that they weren't. "Have you _seen_ yourself?"

"I don't spend as much time checking my make-up as you do, luv."

Gillian wanted to slap him. "You can't go to this meeting looking like this that. If you do they'll never hire us."

"They're gonna hire us for what I can do, not what I look like."

"Right now you look like you can't even handle getting ready in the morning!"

He ambled towards the door. "Are you done? Because I'm leaving. With or without you."

Gillian jumped in front of him, blocking his way. "Oh no, you're not. We are not going to this meeting with you in this state."

He pursed his lips and made a face. "Have I told you how tired I am of your pontificating, Foster? I thought the one good thing about not being married anymore is that I wouldn't have to put up with the constant nagging...but I'm still getting it, every damn day at this office. When the hell did we get married? And what kind of crap deal am I getting here? All the nagging and none of the shagging?"

Wei-Ling's jaw dropped and Cal moved to put his arm around Gillian.

She pushed it off.

_You're not even hung-over. You're still drunk._

Gillian felt her blood pressure skyrocket. She wanted to throttle him.

_How do I salvage this? In less than sixty minutes. _

She gave him a shove and pushed him towards the Cube.

Cal smiled. Amused. "Alright then, let's make out. About time, I'd say."

His arm was back around her, hugging her waist this time.

Gillian pushed him into the Cube.

"At least dim the lights and put down the blinds. We have staff watching, you know."

Gillian glared at him and pushed off his arm once again. "We're going to have a serious discussion when I get back. _Serious_."

"Why _are _you always so serious? When are you gonna have some fun, Foster?"

Then with lightning speed, she turned around and stepped back outside. Locking the door shut, leaving Cal inside the Cube. Locked in.

It took him one second too many to realize what she'd done.

"What the hell?"

Gillian knew he'd try to unlock it from the inside. Only the two of them could. However, if she locked it from the outside, her command would override his. It was one of the Cube's design features.

He wouldn't be able to get out until she let him.

He was the one seething now. "You think this is funny? You think you'll get that contract without me?"

_I might not get it without you but I definitely won't get it with you. _

Gillian turned to Wei-Ling who was sitting at the console outside the Cube. "Put on the blinds."

"What?"

"The outside ones." It meant Cal would be able to see outside but he couldn't be seen from the outside.

"Okay, Dr. Foster."

Gillian sighed. She'd lost track of how many times she'd told her to call her Gillian. Clearly it was time to give up.

"Grab your suit jacket and come with me."

"What?"

"Just come," she repeated and then turned to Anna. "And you too."

"What?" the brunette eyed her quizzically. "I can't leave the phone..."

"You can forward our line to your cell phone, no?"

"I could."

"Alright then. Do that."

"But what can I do at this meeting?"

Gillian tossed her a set of keys. "I could use a driver. Cal keeps telling me I have a concussion and that I shouldn't be driving. I finally decided to take his advice."

Ironically, today was the first time in over two weeks that she woke up without even the slightest headache. At least one part of her life was looking up again, just as certain other parts were crashing and burning.

She had a final glance in the direction of the Cube, where she could hear Cal cursing. Then she ushered both women out of the office. Figuring it was for the best that they didn't have to listen to that for the next couple of hours.

* * *

><p>For the first hour or so he was pissed. Literally and figuratively.<p>

He'd cursed and punched the bullet-proof glass. Had even tossed over one of the chairs in the room and now it was lying on the floor, toppled over sideways.

Who the hell did Foster think she was? Taking the reins of _his _company in her hands? Thinking she could lock him inside his own creation and get away with it?

Just because he didn't look like a powerbroker in a suit?

He'd decided to change the settings on the Cube. From now on he'd give himself overriding authority over anyone else, including Foster. It's what she deserved for violating his trust the way she did this morning.

There were few things that got under his skin more than disloyalty.

He brooded and seethed for well over an hour, sitting on the floor, back against the glass.

Until he felt himself sobering up and ran his hand along his cheeks, along the stubble that was there permanently lately, and realized maybe she was right about one thing.

He did look like shit. And as the hangover settled in, he was starting to feel like it too.

He'd been a mess for days now and couldn't seem to find a solution that didn't involve copious amounts of alcohol. He couldn't sleep at night and couldn't function during the day.

Foster's voice rang in his head.

_"Cal...the bulk of the cases I treated at the Pentagon were soldiers with PTSD. It got to the point where I got very good at diagnosing it...I can see the symptoms...especially when they're staring me in the face." _

Maybe she had a point, but he knew that wasn't entirely it. Yes, the shooting at the warehouse got to him, in ways that he hadn't expected it to. He could acknowledge that now. But he also knew it wouldn't have hit him as hard if he hadn't lost his family that very same month.

It killed him to come home to an empty house every night. Made him want to crawl out of his skin.

He missed them so much. Zoe. Emily. Isabel. _His girls._ All three of them gone, leaving him with a house full of lifeless rooms.

Just thinking about it made him crave some sort of oblivion again. He still wasn't ready to face the reality of a life where he only saw his daughter on weekends. A life where the woman he still loved was seeing other men.

By the time he heard the office door opening, more than two hours later, his contemplation was slowly giving way to anger again.

He wanted out of the damn Cube. _Now_.

Foster had come back alone. There were no signs of Wei-Ling or Anna.

He shouldn't have been surprised. Foster hated it when the two women saw them arguing.

Unlocking the Cube was the first thing she did when she came into the room and part of him wanted to storm out and give her a piece of his mind as soon as she did, but instead he stayed seated on the floor until she stepped inside.

"Cal?"

That was when he jumped up and got into her face. "Don't you ever do that again!"

He did see remorse on her face. "I didn't know what else to do!"

"Not _that_," he shot back. "And if you do anything like that again, we're through!"

Now he saw obvious anger. "Oh yeah? Funny how after the last three weeks you're the one threatening to break up with me."

"Stop treating me like a child that needs your pity!"

"Is that what you think I'm doing?"

"Yeah, that's why I think you're doing."

He kept moving closer to her, wanting her to feel his frustration.

Annoyed, Foster took a step back, not seeing the leg of the fallen chair that was lying in her way, clumsily tripping over it.

She would've fallen backwards, had he not caught hold of her arm and held on to her with every muscle in his body. She took another awkward step and Cal waited until she regained her balance, before letting go of her arm, his fingers leaving behind a red imprint on her light skin.

Cal observed her as she caught her breath, before leaning against the wall. This time he caught something unexpected in her eyes when she looked at him.

It was there for only a split second. But he was certain about what he saw.

And it sent ice-cold chills running down his spine.

_Fear. _

Her look took him back to his childhood. To the way his mother used to look at his father.

To the vows he made to himself every single day, that he'd die before ever laying a hand on someone weaker than he was. And the constant promises he made himself that he'd never turn into his father. Ever.

"You alright?" he asked her. His voice sounded far away to his ears.

"Yeah, thanks." She was trying to sound casual but her voice was shaky. "Good catch."

Cal couldn't stop staring at her.

Foster spent the last three weeks putting up with his intolerable behaviour. Working through a concussion as she singlehandedly tried to keep their business afloat. And now she almost tripped and fell because he decided to be an ass and get into her face. Because he'd childishly decided to throw around the furniture.

The realization of it all made his heart drop into his gut. Made him feel sick to his stomach.

"I'm sorry, Gill."

He could tell that she didn't quite understand what he was apologizing for.

_For taking everything out on you. For being a complete wanker at a time when you needed a friend and a partner too. _

_But more than anything, I'm sorry for what I just saw on your face. _

"It's okay."

"No, it's not," he told her. "You know I'd never hurt you. Never. You know that, right?"

This time she was the one who moved towards him. "Yeah, I know that."

"I _need_ you to know that."

"Cal...I do."

She put her arms around him then, pulled him towards her, letting him nestle his face in the nape of neck. A perfect fit, given their identical height.

It was when her arms were around him that he noticed that he was shaking. He was shaking as the warmth of her skin touched his. Cal wanted to bury himself in her embrace.

He wondered if she had any idea of how much he needed this. How much he needed her touch. Needed her to show him that she wasn't afraid of him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her ears. Needing her to know that too. Because it was the truth.

"Stop it, Cal," she said softly. "This...this place where you are now, it'll pass. We'll get through it. Promise."

He held on to her and for the first time in weeks he didn't feel alone.

* * *

><p>They both sat on the floor, leaning against the wall of the Cube afterwards.<p>

"How'd the meeting go?" he finally managed to ask, although one look at her face told him what the answer was.

"Not well."

"I should've been there."

"They weren't too impressed to get Foster instead of Lightman. " She shrugged her shoulders. "It's just one contract. If they're seriously interested in your science they'll give us another chance."

"Hope so." It was one more thing he wanted to kick himself for this week. Losing something that could've really taken them up to the next level. Letting it slip through his fingers like everything else.

"It would've been a crazy amount of work," she reasoned. "In hindsight, I don't think we're ready for it right now."

Cal nodded. That was true. They needed more staff. Not just a research assistant and a secretary. But scientists who could take on their own cases, just as they did. So they wouldn't have to do everything by themselves.

And he needed to get back to making it through an entire day without getting drunk and being a jerk to everyone around him. Priorities. That's what Foster was _really _trying to say.

"Where do we go from here?" he asked her. He who was always two steps ahead had no idea what to tackle next.

"We keep taking on the little cases we land," she told him. "And we make sure you're okay. You're more important than this company."

"I miss them," he confessed. "Zoe and Em. And I want them back so badly it hurts. Even if I know it won't work. It's madness."

Gillian toyed with a key chain, not quite meeting his eyes. "It's madness, loving your wife and child?"

"Why didn't I see it?" he asked her. "Me who sees everything. I didn't see that my own wife was falling out of love with me?"

"Sometimes..." she said softly. "There's things we don't want to see. Even if we can."

"And what about Riley?" he pressed.

"How could you have seen what was going to happen when Riley didn't suspect a thing himself?"

"Even you said you had a bad feeling about the whole thing," he countered.

"Because the guy was a career criminal! Not because I saw or heard something!"

He sighed.

"Cal," she said his name in a way that made him turn around and look at her. "Even Riley had no clue. None at all. And if he didn't have any idea...what were you supposed to have read on his face?"

"I know..."

"Do you really?"

He nodded. Of course she was right. She'd been right from the start. He knew it too, but he'd been too busy letting the demons from his past creep back into his life to accept the truth. The end of his marriage had conveniently opened the door for them to come in.

"It scares you sometimes doesn't it? This skill that you have. Because it comes it with so much responsibility."

He didn't say anything. Not that he had to.

Gillian rested her hand on his thigh. "You're afraid it'll let you down when you need it most."

_Was he? _

"You're not afraid of much of anything, but you are afraid of that."

Cal eyed her. He knew he was the best at what he did. But under the giant umbrella of his science, it was easy to forget sometimes how good she was at what she did.

"It's okay to be afraid," she told him. "Makes us human and keeps us from careening off cliffs...but without your help, fear is nothing. Don't forget that. Don't let it gain the upper hand and paralyze you. Because then it'll make you do exactly what you're afraid of. It'll make you doubt yourself when you can least afford to."

"I know."

"It's not a fair fight right now," she acknowledged. "When all your defences are down."

"You got any weapons?"

"Come stay with me and Alec for a few days. Don't go home to an empty house where everything reminds you of Zoe and Em."

Cal almost choked. Just because he was ready to accept the fact that he needed a hand, didn't mean he was ready to move in. "Appreciate the offer, but no thanks..."

"Don't appreciate it," she cut him off. "Accept it."

"Your husband doesn't like me, Gill."

"Nonsense."

"What were you saying about not seeing the things we don't want to?"

Foster rolled her eyes. "I'm going to help you through this. But you have to let me."

"You do this with all your patients? Let them move with you? Cook them dinner?"

"No. Just the difficult ones."

Cal chuckled. He got up first, then held out his hand and helped her up.

"You're serious about this?"

"You need to not go home to an empty house and brood, for a few days," she reminded him as they walked out of the Cube and turned off the lights. "Eat some decent meals and be with friends. Besides, our guest room is downstairs. You won't even have to see us after dinner."

"So I'll be downstairs, while you're upstairs doing god knows what."

Foster raised her brows. "We'll keep it quiet. Just for you."

"You're gonna regret this...you know that, right?"

She walked ahead of him, so he couldn't see the amusement on her face, but he was getting better at hearing it.

"Probably."


	29. After Hours

**XXIX) After Hours **

Gillian Foster undid another button on her blouse and then flapped the fabric a little, just enough to let a wisp of air flow over the exposed skin underneath.

She'd turned off the air conditioner almost an hour ago, just after Anna left and the temperature in the office had risen steadily since then. She liked it warm but soon it would be sauna-like. Too hot even for her.

When it came to that point, she'd decide to either turn it back on or call it a day.

Until then she loosened her clothes and had another sip of the ice water she'd poured herself a minute ago.

"Could it _get_ any warmer in here?"

Gillian almost jumped out of her seat. Almost got whiplash from turning around so fast, even as she recognized the voice. "Damn it, Alec. You almost gave me a heart attack."

Her husband grinned. "That's what you get for leaving your office unlocked."

Gillian pushed her chair away from her desk, leaning into it as she waited for her heart to stop pounding. Looking at him with a grin of her own now.

He was wearing jeans. Gillian couldn't remember the last time he wore jeans. And it was a shame because he looked damn good in them. The suits he wore religiously didn't do his body any justice.

_I am getting you a cowboy hat for Christmas. And I'm going to make you wear it._

"What made you decide to stop by for a visit?"

She could count on the fingers of one-hand the number of times Alec stopped by their office in the last couple of years. He stayed away mostly because he didn't like Cal. She could admit that to herself now, especially after he stayed at their place for a few days several months ago. It had been what Cal needed and she didn't regret it for a second, but she also didn't miss the relief on Alec's face the day he left their guest room.

Alec never said anything disparaging about Cal, not since they'd started working together, but she was good enough at what she did now that he didn't need to. She didn't know why there was animosity between the two closest men in her life, and she didn't probe. Didn't want to stir up something that would have to be dealt with.

After all, she was good at avoidance.

"It's not a visit," he told her. "Came by to drag you home. Maybe take you out to dinner beforehand. It's after seven on a Friday. Have you noticed you're the only one left in this office?"

Gillian raised her brows. Alec was lecturing her about working too much?

"Cal had to leave early. He has Emily on weekends and has to get her by 5pm. And...what I'm doing the others can't help me with, so I sent them home."

"You're too nice."

"I know...it's good that you love me anyway."

"Christ, Gill. That's some serious cleavage," he pointed out as he leaned on the edge of her desk. He curved his hand and trailed a ring finger along the fabric of her blouse, from her neck downwards to the rim of her bra, giving her goose bumps as he slowly inched it along her moist skin. "Are you_ trying_ to drive your partner mad?" he asked her.

"He drives me mad too, so I have to retaliate with the only weapons I have in my arsenal."

"Not funny."

"Is that jealousy I hear? What makes you think I'm trying to flirt with Cal? Have you seen our new receptionist? Anna is one sexy woman." Gillian purposely undid another button on her blouse. "She makes me feel...things."

"Okay...that just turned me on a little."

"Just a little?"

"By little I mean a lot."

"How about I offer her a big raise in exchange for...trying something with us?"

Alec eyed her and she could see that for a split second he wondered if she was serious.

She hid her amusement. "You want me to? I do the payroll. Cal would never know."

Alec swallowed. "You're not serious."

"Can't handle two of us? If not I could ask Cal, 'cause I'm pretty sure I could."

"Okay, that's just wrong. So wrong." Alec made a face. "Stop talking..." He put in an index finger over her lips. "Right now."

Gillian smiled as she deftly hooked two fingers into his jeans and pulled him towards her. "Plenty of other things we could do instead of talk." She sensed that he was in the mood too. It wasn't like him to show up for an announced visit, wanting her as much as she wanted him. And she did want him, _all the time. _It still made her feel guilty sometimes that her sex drive was so much stronger than his. But not guilty enough that she wouldn't take full advantage during those rare times when he wanted it just as bad.

So what if it happened while she was still at work?

She pulled him closer still and he would've ended up in her lap if he didn't drop to his knees instead. His hands were on her waist now as he straddled her lower legs, kissing the exposed part of her chest.

A moan escaped her lips and then she saw him hesitate. "We're in your office, Gill."

"I know..." She ran her fingers through his hair. "I need some good memories of this place. Let's make some."

"Let's lock the door first."

"Nah..." she protested. "Let's take the chance. It's Friday night. No one will come in here until Monday morning."

Alec pushed himself off his knees. "I'm locking the door."

"Chicken."

He walked back to her, wiping a trail of perspiration off his forehead before grabbing her arm and pulling her out of her chair, wrapping his arms around her as he staked his claim. "How do you work in this heat?"

Gillian dipped her fingers into her glass of water and grabbed an ice cube. She held it in her hand and ran it along her neck before trailing it along his, drops of ice cold water dripping between her fingers. "Better?"

"Mmm...much."

She popped the rest of the cube into her mouth, leaning in to kiss him before slipping it into his mouth with her tongue.

"Ah...feels nice," he mumbled with a groan, sucking on the ice cube before he passed its last remnant back the her.

Gillian grabbed another ice cube and this time she lifted his t-shirt and ran it along the waist of his jeans with one hand, unbuckling his belt with the other. Her other hand pushing down his pants, shocked to see he wore nothing underneath. _That_ wasn't like him at all.

"Who are you and what have you done to my conservative husband?"

She thought she saw him blush.

"It's hot outside..."

"That's okay." Gillian grinned. "You can keep my husband...I'll take this guy instead. He's hot." She ran the rest of the ice along his skin, along that subtle indentation where his torso narrowed into his hips.

He didn't work out as often as he used to but he still had the kind of body that most of his fleshy, overweight peers envied. The kind that still turned her on every time he took his shirt off.

With wet, cold hands she pushed up his t-shirt and he obliged her, raising his arms as she took it off. Shivering when her cold hands touched his skin.

"Why am I getting naked so much faster than you?"

"Because you're so slow," she chided him, her eyes catching the growing bulge near his groin. Feeling a wet warmth of her own in response to it.

She was pressed against her desk now and he lowered her onto it, cradling the back of her head in his hand. He did it with such ease and it reminded her of something she often forgot. How strong he was. Physically.

"No more bumps on the head," he explained, gently kissing her forehead.

Gillian arched her back as he deftly pulled her skirt over her hips. That was classic Alec again. Sweet and tender even now, when he had only one thing on his mind. It made her love him as much as she wanted him.

He took off her heels first, then her panties, running his fingers along the inside of her thighs and then pulling her body back up to his, pressing her against him when he couldn't hold back any longer.

Gillian grabbed hold of the edge of her desk, clutching it as she cried out, coming at the same time as he did. They rattled the whole thing just enough to topple over her glass of water and send it crashing to the floor. Leaving behind a mess of water, melting ice cubes and shards of glass.

Gillian was oblivious to it all.

They weren't always this in synch, but when they were it was absolutely perfect and she didn't want it to end. Wanted to keep him inside of her.

Maybe it was time to start trying a whole host of new locales.

"Oh god..." Alec groaned afterwards as he nudged her over and sank down on the desk next to her. "That felt so good. You have no idea."

"Hey..." she slapped his chest, her breathing still heavy. "I have some idea." Gillian turned over onto her side, draping one of her legs over his. The hard surface of her desk was uncomfortable, but it was better than the floor. She was still wearing her blouse and bra, felt the fabric of both of them clinging to her hot skin, wishing he'd take them off for her. Too lazy to do it herself.

She nestled into him, nibbling at his earlobe. "Wanna try for round two?"

She caught the slight widening of his pupils. "Already?"

"We could move over to the Cube. It records everything and the quality is amazing. Let's film it all. Then put it on YouTube."

Alec chocked and coughed a little.

Gillian giggled. It was way too easy to shock him. "Kidding."

"Does anyone else know this part of you?"

"Should they?"

"No way. This part of you is mine. I'm not sharing." One of his hands toyed with her hair, twirling a curl between his fingers. "It's so hot in here, I feel like I'm going to die."

She snuggled against him, enjoying the warmth. "There are worse ways to go."

"I guess...if I have to die it might as well be in your arms after we made out on your desk."

Gillian rested her hand on his stomach, watching it rise and fall along with his breath. For just a split second her thoughts went back to the depths of his addiction. Days and nights when the notion of him dying wasn't as farfetched as it seemed now. It made her shiver a little, raising goose bumps along her arms in spite of the heat.

"No dying," she told him softly. "Not anytime soon."

Although the sound she heard coming from the next room did almost stop her heart.

Keys turning. A door opening.

They turned to each other and mouthed it simultaneously.

_"Shit." _


	30. Family Dinner

**XXX) Family Dinner **

They leapt off the desk sending a stapler and a bunch of papers flying to the ground on top of the broken glass.

"Dad? What was that?" Gillian heard Emily's voice coming from the main room.

"Dunno, luv. Stay here."

Gillian slammed their office door shut and watched as Alec got dressed in record time. He picked up her clothes and then helped her button her blouse when he was done.

"Gillian?" Cal pounded on their door. "Are you in there?"

"Yeah...just a sec."

"You okay?"

"Yeah..."

Alec gave her a bashful smile before planting another kiss on her lips. "As if he won't know."

Gillian groaned. This was not the way she wanted to end this.

She pulled herself away from him before going to open the door only to see Cal standing on the other side, a perplexed expression on his face. They rarely closed their office door. Especially when no one else was in.

He saw Alec and then his gaze went to the mess on her desk. The broken glass and the papers scattered on the floor. He put two and two together in no time and smirked as soon as he did. "Alec, what brings you here? Oh wait a minute...let me guess..."

Gillian glared at him. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I work here." The grin was still plastered on his face. "Unlike some of us who apparently do..._more_ than work here. Who knew?"

Emily came running as soon as she heard Gillian's voice.

"Hi Gillian!" She gave her a hug and a smile. "I haven't seen in you in a long time."

"I know." Gillian held her tight. "I missed you. Tell your Dad to bring you around a little more often."

"Oh, yeah, so she can learn a few things?" Cal chimed in. "About anatomy and such?"

"_Cal_?" He was enjoying this too much.

Alec took a step towards Emily.

"I don't think I've met this lovely lady before."

"Emily," Gillian introduced them. "This is Alec my husband. Alec this is Cal's daughter."

The girl she'd looked after in a Denver hotel room was taller than last time she'd seen her, not that far off from her teenage years now. Emily shook her husband's hand like a pro. "Hi Alec."

Alec smiled. "It's nice to meet you Emily."

"Dad and I are going for dinner. Can you and Gillian come?"

Cal put a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "I think they're...otherwise occupied tonight."

To Gillian's surprise, it was Alec who accepted the offer. "We'd love to."

"Oh yeah?" Cal was caught by surprise.

Alec gave him a cocky smile. "We worked up quite an appetite."

Cal looked at Gillian, who cringed and blushed all at once. "I bet."

She was wondering if this was really what she thought it was. Alec sticking it to Cal. Stepping outside his box and doing whatever alpha males did when they staked their claim. Not that she'd ever seen Alec fall into that role before.

Was that jealousy she caught on Cal's face?

_No, _she chided herself._ You're imagining things now._

"I promised Emily Cheesecake Factory tonight," Cal pointed out. "The one on Wisconsin Avenue. Bit of a drive from here."

"Gillian loves Cheesecake Factory," Alec told him. "Right, darling?"

"Right," Gillian mumbled. She didn't mind it, but she knew Alec hated it.

"Careful," she heard Alec saying to Emily who almost stepped into the mess next to her desk. The broken glass and water.

"Give me five minutes to clean this up," Gillian told them. "Then we can head out."

Emily asked Alec whether he'd seen the Cube.

"Good question. _Did you?"_ Cal asked him.

"No," he told Emily, while looking at Cal. "We didn't get that far."

"I can show you some of the stuff it can do," Emily told Alec who followed her out of the room.

"Careful with that," Cal mumbled and Gillian wasn't entirely sure whether he meant the Cube or Alec.

He turned back to her. "So, uh, is this a Friday tradition?"

"Oh stop it," Gillian muttered, walking over to a cupboard where she knew they kept the dustpan.

He bent down to help her pick up some of the shards, as well as the stapler that was lying on top of them. "I'm a little disappointed," he admitted, carefully picking through the mess.

"Cal, it's not what you think...we didn't..."

She wasn't sure why she bothered trying to lie. She knew it was futile. Maybe because part of her did feel guilty. What she'd done wasn't appropriate. What if Alec hadn't gone to lock the door? What if Emily had walked in on them? Gillian shuddered just thinking about it.

But Cal was still grinning. "Kinda disappointed that between the two of us, it's the good girl who's making out in the office. Was hoping to beat you to it."

She mustered a smile of her own. Catching a glimpse through the half open door of their office, she saw Emily turning the lights on and off in the Cube in the other room. Excitedly showing off some of its features to Alec.

"Look, I'm sorry," she told Cal after they'd cleaned up her mess. "What we did. It was a one time thing. It's not going to happen again."

Cal still seemed unfazed. "You can make up for it by paying for dinner."

Of course there would be blackmail. But she figured she deserved it this time. "Okay. Deal." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. "So what are you doing here anyway?"

"The movie tickets Watson gave us last week. I left them at my desk and wanted to get them in case Em wants to go see a movie this weekend."

He walked over his desk to grab them, holding them up for her to let her know he wasn't lying.

Then he gave her a little poke, just below her shoulder, as she slipped back into her heels.

"By the way," he pointed out with another smirk. "Might wanna redo the buttons on your blouse. They're off by one."

* * *

><p><em>Cheesecake Factory, DC <em>

"Dessert?" Alec suggested.

"For sure," Emily agreed, even though she hadn't nearly finished her massive plate of pasta.

Cal pointed to her plate when the waitress came around. "We'll take that home."

It surprised Cal how much his daughter had taken a liking to a man that he himself didn't care for. It made him wonder whether it was too early to start worrying about her taste in men.

"Let's go look at the cheesecakes in the display window," she suggested to Alec.

"Alright," Alec agreed, looking like he actually enjoyed his daughter's company. He turned to his wife. "Can I get you one?"

Gillian still had food on her plate too. "I don't know. I'm pretty full. Unless you want to share?"

"Sure."

"Surprise me," she added with a smile.

"I'm good thanks," Cal mumbled after they left.

It amused her that Cal and Alec were still playing some sort of game. "Since when do you eat dessert? You didn't touch anything sweet during the time you stayed with us."

"Might've started tonight."

"As if."

"He's good with Em," Cal conceded. "Your husband."

"He's good with most kids," Gillian told him. "He'd make a great Dad."

"Won't lie and say I'm not surprised," he admitted.

"Sometimes I think he feels like kids are the only people he doesn't have to pretend or compete with," she said, playing with her food now. She looked up at him after she said it and Cal saw her cheeks flush, regretting the fact that she'd said what she did. Voiced her thoughts to him when she really hadn't meant to. "I mean, his job," she explained. "It's different than ours. We look for the truth. Alec always has to make an effort to sidestep around it in the name of diplomacy and...getting ahead. It's draining, having to put up a facade all the time."

"Alec's a big boy," Cal reminded her, hating that she always felt the need to defend him. "Can switch jobs anytime he wants."

"I know," she nodded in agreement. "But he's worked hard on this one."

"Did he..." Cal started. This was prying he knew. But his curiosity wanted to know. "Know you couldn't have kids?"

Gillian raised her brows. A couple of years ago she would've told him to mind his own business. But she trusted him now. Enough to tell him the truth and to know it was safe with him. "Before we got married, you mean? Yeah, he knew."

_But you married her anyway. Even though you're dying to be a Dad. I suppose that takes you up a notch or two. _

"We were young and ambitious when we got married," she added. "Having a family wasn't at the top of our list of priorities then. We wanted to get ahead and travel the world. But we always said we'd adopt at one point."

"How's that going?"

Gillian put down her fork. No longer hungry.

"Slow. We were close a few months ago. There was a pregnant sixteen-year old in rehab, who was going to give her baby up for adoption. Alec and I were considered ideal candidates, because there was a strong possibility of cognitive impairments. But the girl changed her mind about giving up the baby. Decided to keep it."

"Sorry."

Gillian shrugged, with a nonchalant expression. But he caught the sadness in her eyes.

"It's okay. We knew there was a chance she would, so we didn't say anything to anyone."

He wanted to tell her she could've told him. Regardless. But Alec and Emily came back to the table, carrying two slices of cheesecake, interrupting his train of thought.

"Emily asked if we could take them back to the table ourselves," Alec explained, setting down the plates. "And of course the guy behind the counter couldn't resist her."

"What'd you get, luv?" Cal asked his daughter, cringing as he eyed the giant slice of cake, topped with whipped cream, chocolate sauce and a maraschino cherry.

"It's a brownie sundae cheesecake," she told him. "I brought an extra fork for you."

Cal felt his blood sugar rise just looking at it. "S'okay. I'll pass. And you're not eating all of it either."

"Don't worry." Cal saw Gillian's fork moving over to his daughter's plate. "We'll help her with it."

Reluctantly, Cal picked up his fork and had some too. Figuring he was doing it for Em's health.

It wasn't how he expected the day to end; sharing cheesecake with the Fosters and his daughter. Not after what happened at their office this afternoon. But Cal didn't mind it as much as he thought he would. Sitting here with the three of them almost made him feel like he was part of a family again.


	31. Las Vegas: Arrival

**XXXI) Las Vegas: Arrival **

"I didn't set out to cause a stir!" Gillian sighed, moving the phone receiver away from her ear as his voice got louder. "It was just a dress, Alec. That's all. It was pretty and pink and I liked it. It never occurred to me that a dress would cause such a fuss."

_"It was everything, Gill. The dress, the cut, the colour... it wasn't just pink, it was bright pink! It's all they talked about this morning. 'Foster and his wife in that pink dress.'" _

"You buddy, Marsden, should thank me then. Maybe if they hadn't been staring at my dress they would have noticed that his wife was drunk out of her mind."

_"Gill...do you mind? I'm calling from work." _

Gillian closed her eyes and exhaled. She noticed Cal listening in on her conversation from the desk across from hers. Moments like these increased her longing for her own office. "Look...I'm sorry," she mumbled. "No more low-cut, pink dresses at formal dinners. I got it. From now on I'll stick to less...offensive colours and hemlines. But I can't undo the one I wore last night."

_"It's not me, you know that. You looked great, darling. It's just that everything gets scrutinized. You know how it is. Appearance is everything." _

"Yeah, I know..."

_"Thanks for understanding."_

"Sure."

_"I love you." _

"Love you too."

Gillian set the receiver down slowly, wishing he hadn't called her when he did. Wishing she didn't see the knowing look on Cal's face.

It took him less than a second to pipe up.

"Lemme get this straight, your husband gets on your case because you wore a pink dress to one of his functions?"

Gillian didn't want to have _this_ conversation either. "It's...more complicated than that."

"Sounded pretty simple to me."

"Cal, do you mind?"

"Alright, alright..." He threw up his hands in mock surrender. "Just sayin' it's a little odd when a guy calls to complain about his gorgeous wife turning too many heads at a party."

Gillian shot him a look. She was aiming for annoyed but didn't really succeed. Mostly because it wasn't him she was annoyed with and partly because what Cal said made her feel better and she needed it. Especially after Alec's phone call. Which hadn't made her feel particularly good.

She dug her fingers into the bowl of candy on her desk, taking out two. Unwrapping them absentmindedly. "It's not what you think. He gets...judged for a lot of things. I should've known better than to wear what I wore last night."

"Or he could stop caring what others think."

"Cal? _Come on_."

"So you're saying you want some Barbara Bush-style pearls for Christmas to go with your navy blue dresses?"

That suggestion made her laugh, in spite of herself. "Don't you dare."

He stood up and checked the time on his Rolex. "It's less than four hours 'til our flight. Gonna go home and pack?"

Gillian nodded. Between Wei-Ling's panic attack over having to run the place on her own for three days to Alec's phone call, she'd lost track of time. "I do need to go pack."

"How long did you book us for?"

"Three nights."

"Think it'll take that long?"

"Hope not. But if it does, we have rooms. We can always cancel them."

"I'm not taking anything except the laptop."

"Me neither. We won't need it. We'll be using Ellis' equipment."

Cal threw his jacket over his shoulder. "See you at Reagan in a couple of hours?"

Gillian nodded. "Sounds good."

He held the door open for her before locking it behind them. Neither Anna nor Wei-Ling needed access to their office when they weren't here.

Gillian heard him mumble as he ambled down the hallway beside of her.

"Feel free to bring the pink dress to Vegas..."

* * *

><p><em>Las Vegas, NV<em>

They'd spent the first two hours of the flight going over the upcoming case. Familiarizing themselves with the casino owner who'd hired them as well as his operation. But now, roughly four hours in, Cal was starting to doze, while Gillian was engrossed in some paperback novel.

He hadn't been dozing long when the 'fasten-seatbelt' sign pinged him awake.

Gillian of course hadn't taken hers off at all. Because the sign told them to leave them on.

Cal had the window seat and he felt a tingling of excitement when he saw the sea of lights below them. Vegas had that effect on him.

They were a bad match, Lightman and Las Vegas. The last two times they met up it hadn't ended well. Not that it mattered. The excitement was still there. It was like seeing the woman you first fell head-over heels in love with. Even after she dumped you twice, she still stirred something in you. Maybe she did it precisely _because_ she made you crazy.

For a moment he thought of Zoe and it left a smile on his face.

That's what Vegas was to him. The woman he knew would end up making him miserable. But before she did, he'd have a hell of a time with her.

He shouldn't have taken this case. Should've told Gillian as much. Taking on this case was asking for trouble.

But he'd been good for months now. Good father, good partner, good ex-husband.

It was time to have a little fun again.

Gillian yawned as they touched down. It was almost ten pm.

"What's that? No yawning." He chided her. "Get a coffee when we get to the hotel."

"It's midnight in DC."

"We're not in DC. Night's only starting in Vegas."

"I'm going to bed, Cal. I've been up since six this morning."

"Not allowed."

"Watch me."

"Don't mind if I do..."

"_Cal..._."

He grinned. Feeling the excitement build after they landed and they taxied towards their arrival gate. He knew he would've enjoyed her company, but it was probably for the best that she didn't join him.

He had a feeling Foster wouldn't approve of the things he had in mind tonight.


	32. Las Vegas: Temptation

**AN: **Big thanks for those who stop by to leave your feedback! Always appreciated.

* * *

><p><strong>XXXII) Las Vegas: Temptation <strong>

Funny. That Foster would just so happen to come out of her room at the same time that he was entering his.

Her room was directly across from his and she emerged from it looking decidedly more awake and alert than he was.

"Cal?"

"Yeah..." he slid his key card into the door, noticing her disapproving look from the corner of his eyes.

"Tell me you're not just getting in. It's eight in the morning."

He swung around to face her. "I'm not just getting in."

"You were out all night, weren't you?"

"Oh, you wanted the _truth_. Shoulda said so, luv."

Exasperation. That's what he saw on her face now.

"Cal...we're supposed to meet Ellis downstairs in twenty minutes!"

"If you stop holding me up, I could get ready."

She sighed. "Whatever. See you in twenty."

"Morning to you too..." he mumbled as he stumbled into his room. He was still a little drunk. Or maybe even more than a little. Five liberally-poured scotch-on-the-rocks did that to him these days. He couldn't quite knock them back the way he used to anymore.

He stepped into the shower, knowing he'd start feeling it soon too, once the inebriation wore off and the hangover settled in. His head would then hurt as much as his wallet. Foster would have an aspirin, or two or three, for him. She was disgustingly organized. Probably had an entire first aid kit in her suitcase.

Six grand. That's how much he lost last night.

It hadn't quite sunk in yet, but he had a feeling it would as the day went on. That by mid-afternoon he might regret it a little more than he did at this very moment.

Or maybe not.

He knew he could get it back in a few hours playing high-stakes poker. Even if he hated it. Gambling was supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be about beating the odds. It wasn't supposed to be work.

Roulette, in the other hand, was fun. It was wild and unpredictable and entirely based on chance. It had seriously lousy odds and when you did beat them it was an even better high than hitting the jackpot on a slot machine.

Cal smiled as he stepped into the shower, knowing he'd probably find his way back to a table game sometime before the day was over.

* * *

><p><em>Later <em>

It was around 3 o'clock in the afternoon when he finally hit a wall. In spite of the sandwich, the double espresso and the three aspirins that Foster made him consume around noon.

"Why do we bother with this?" he mumbled after Ellis left, leaving only him and Foster in a room full of video screens. The glare of the screens was just one more thing that was getting to him this afternoon.

"What do you mean?" she asked, biting into a chocolate chip cookie. One of several that were sitting on a silver tray Ellis had left in the room for them.

"These guys..." he said, pointing to one of the screens. "The men that Ellis thinks are double-crossing him. Of course they are."

"What?"

"They're all a bunch of con artists. Including Ellis. It's what you get when you step over dead bodies to get ahead. People are gonna want to take you down."

"What do you suggest? We tell him that, in those words?" Gillian looked at him, mildly annoyed. "Because when we signed the contract we mistakenly thought we'd be working for a saint?"

Cal rolled his chair over to hers, leaning into her. "I'm saying it's ludicrous that we're analysing micro-expressions and writing up facial coding proof of evidence for the guy, when we should be spelling it out in neon lights. Vegas-style. This...this contract, it's insulting to my science, Gill."

"That's odd because..." she shot back, flicking a cookie crumb off her skirt. "You didn't mention that when you saw the fee I negotiated. Or when you signed on the dotted line two weeks ago."

Cal took a sip of his ginger-ale. His stomach still felt off. "I'm mentioning it now."

This time she was the one who leaned into him. "Look, just because you're hung-over and cranky doesn't mean Ellis doesn't deserve the best we can give him. Or that we won't finish this contract. Because we need the money for the new office space. And, besides..." she added, her tone lighter. "These cookies are really good. They're still warm."

Cal sighed. "Is that it?"

"No, actually," she went on, pointing to the screen furthest to the left. "That guy, Johnson, the Golden Sands accountant, I think he's absolutely honest. I didn't see any hint of deception during that finance meeting. What do you think?"

He gave the video another look, realizing that she was right. That he'd been so tired he was starting to lump them all together. He felt a twinge of guilt for his carelessness. That wasn't like him. He forced himself to concentrate and take another look at all the video feeds.

By the time five o'clock rolled around they'd nearly finished analysing all the meetings Ellis wanted them to look at, save for one shareholder meeting and footage from two house parties. Then there was a brief face-to-face meeting with each of his partners and they were done.

"One more day, tops," Foster told him after they shut down the equipment. "I think we'll be able to head home tomorrow night. We can draft out the analysis papers for him from DC. Give him the bad news that two of his three partners are lying at best, and at worst, fleecing him."

Cal felt a sudden pang of disappointment. He wasn't ready to leave Vegas yet.

"Are you up for dinner?" she asked him, as she shut down her lap top. "There's this amazing restaurant at Caesar's that I've been dying to try. I had the concierge make us a reservation."

Cal cringed. Food was the last thing he wanted right now and sleep was the only thing on his mind. But she was so transparently enthusiastic about it, turning her down made him feel like a plonker. "What time?" he asked.

"He could only get an early table. Six o'clock."

Cal frowned. He might've been able to handle a later reservation, after he had a two-hour nap. Anything earlier wouldn't be pretty. "Sorry, luv. Gonna have to pass. Need sleep. Desperately."

He spotted the disappointment on her face, even as she gave him a lop-sided smile. "It's okay. I could've asked you before I made the reservation this morning."

"Go on your own. Wear the pink dress," he told her. "I'm sure you'll have company in no time."

"I'm sure my husband would love that."

"Haven't you heard? What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas."

* * *

><p><em>Later <em>

He crashed as soon as he got to his room. Slept for nearly six hours straight and woke up just before midnight.

Cal tossed the covers off his bed and reached over for his mobile phone and the TV remote.

There was a text from Gillian.

-You have no idea what u missed. Food was out of this world. Gianduja mousse cake w. white chocolate sauce and raspberry foam.

Cal chuckled and he texted her back.

-Did u try a main course too?

He waited a few minutes to see if she'd answer and when she didn't he tossed the phone back on the bed covers. She was probably asleep already. Of course she was. His good-girl partner wasn't the least bit tempted by the lure of Vegas.

Unlike he was. Even now at this very minute.

He probably shouldn't.

What he should do was order some room service along with a pay-per-view movie, one with lots of mindless dialogue and car crashes, before going back to bed in a few hours.

Cal exhaled.

But then he did have six grand to gain back. He knew if he concentrated he could do it in less than a couple of hours at a high-stakes poker game.

He couldn't really justify not even trying to get it back, could he?

Cal jumped off the bed and decided on a shower and change of clothes before hitting The Strip one last time.

* * *

><p><em>Later <em>

Seventy-six minutes. That's how long it took for him to win back what he lost the night before. Thanks to picking a table with some of the worst poker faces he'd ever encountered in any high-roller section. He won back even more than he'd planned. His final haul was closer to seven grand. And that extra thousand was burning a hole in his pocket now.

Cal Lightman checked the time on his Rolex. It was almost 2am. Not that you would know it in this world of artificial lights and sounds, where 2am looked no different than 2pm. Unless he were to pay closer attention to the faces around him. Gone were most of the wide-eyed tourists that flew in here from all corners of the globe. After 2am, most of those still playing were glassy-eyed die-hards. The addicts and the desperate. And lonely seniors feeding the slots their pension funds, because they'd rather be here than home alone.

It was the one part of Vegas he didn't love. Cal avoided looking at most of them. Didn't want to see the things he could see with one look in their direction.

He really should go back to the hotel to avoid a repeat of the night before.

Instead, he sat down at a slot machine and put in a twenty dollar bill.

A few pulls later he was up forty. Cal yawned as a scantily clad waitress walked by and offered him a drink. He took one from her tray and gave her a twenty, which made her hand him a second one, even though he didn't ask. Two more pulls and he was back down to thirty. He finished both his drinks and kept playing until there was nothing left in the machine.

The one-armed bandits didn't do much for him. He needed a certain amount of human interaction to go along with the lousy odds.

Leaving the slots behind, Cal went in search of something more exciting.

He walked in and out of three casinos until he'd lost track of where he was, while at the same time finding what he was looking for.

A roulette table. Packed with people. People who were there not because they were desperate but because they were loving the thrill of it.

A tall, gorgeous woman with long legs and dark hair smiled at him and instantly reminded him of Zoe.

Cal grinned. He'd come to the right place.

This time it was going to be a good night. He felt it in his bones.


	33. Las Vegas: Consequences

**XXXIII) Las Vegas: Consequences **

_- Thank you. For cleaning up my mess, Gillian. _

* * *

><p><em>Las Vegas, Nevada <em>

_It was the most beautiful beach in the world. _

_Perfect white sand and crystal-clear blue water. The sun was setting in the horizon bathing the sky in a blood-orange light. Darkening silhouettes of palm-trees dotted the beach. _

_"Beautiful..." he mumbled, swinging his legs around hers, waves lapping over both of them. He kissed her neck, and salty seawater and grains of sand mixed with the softness of his lips against her skin. _

_Gillian raised her arm and snaked it around his neck, pulling him closer still. "This is the most beautiful sunset ever. I'm sure of it." _

_"Was talking about you, silly," he said, as another wave crashed over them. The heat made the water feel like a cooling balm. _

_His index finger inched underneath her bikini top and it drew a small circle around her nipple, massaging it, giving her goose bumps. Gillian leaned back, her wet hair against his naked chest and then she turned around with a smile. _

_She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him like this. Tanned and relaxed and playful. Couldn't remember the last time they'd gone on a vacation like this. _

_His strong arms lifted her, turned her around so that she was on top of him, facing him, her bare stomach pressed against his. _

_A large wave nearly swept over her entire body, had he not lifted her higher so that her lips were level with his. _

_She smiled and then kissed him. Deep and hard. Alec tasted so good. Sweet and salty, soft and coarse all at once. _

_She wanted him. _

_There was no one else on the beach. No one who would see them. It was just the two of them between the open sky and the endless sea. _

_Her hands pushed down his swim trunks, fighting against the force of the waves. Smiling when she saw just how ready he was for her. _

_It surprised her a little that he wasn't the least bit hesitant. _

_Instead, he pushed down her bikini bottom and used his legs to pull her closer still. Wrapping them around her small frame. _

_She could almost feel him inside her..._

That's when the phone rang.

Except that it wasn't possible. They didn't have cell phones on them. Therefore they couldn't be ringing.

Gillian groaned, knowing she must have heard wrong.

"Alec..." she mumbled, reaching for him. For his warm, wet skin.

But he wasn't there anymore. And the phone kept ringing.

Suddenly, it wasn't sand and ocean waves she felt under her body anymore but soft white hotel bed sheets. Gillian Foster slowly opened her eyes and saw the red numbers flashing on her bedside alarm clock.

_5:02 am. _

The phone was still ringing and she finally reached over to pick it up.

"Foster?"

"_Cal_?"

"Yeah...it's me. You awake?"

"I am now..." Gillian rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "This better be important because that was a _really_ good dream."

"I've got a bit of a problem."

"A problem?"

"I need your help."

"My help?"

"I'm at the police station."

* * *

><p><em>Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department<em>

It didn't take long for her to get here Cal realized when he checked the time on the plastic clock high up in his holding cell. The guard opened the door to let her in.

Foster wore a dress skirt and short sleeved blouse, her hair hastily tied back into a very short pony tail. He figured she didn't bring along any casual wear, as they hadn't planned for any leisure time on this trip. Granted, that hadn't stopped him.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah." Part of him wanted to kick something. Another part wanted to kick himself.

"I talked to Ellis," she told him, sitting down on the padded ledge that could double as a bed. "Is...is any of this true?"

"Depends," Cal answered. "What'd he tell you?"

"That he's charging you with gambling fraud. Says your ability to read micro-expressions means you have an unfair advantage in poker. That you won almost seven thousand at a high-stakes poker game using your skills..."

Cal pursed his lips. "The first bit's true. About the charge."

"And the rest?"

"Of course not," he chided her, knowing she'd know he was lying. But he wasn't about to make confessions in video-monitored holding cells, even if they couldn't use his words here against him in a court of law. "I'm not a bloody psychic."

Gillian didn't say anything. Her incredulous look letting him know exactly what she was thinking without a single word. "Right...because if you could do what he's suggesting we wouldn't have to take on these cross-country contracts. We could just fly you to Atlantic City once a month and fund our company that way." She exhaled. "And theoretically...if you _were _going to cheat in poker you wouldn't possibly be stupid enough to do it in one of Ellis' own casinos! Further proof that this charge is ludicrous, right?"

Cal winced. He wasn't sure how exactly it had slipped his mind that the casino he'd chosen to earn back his winnings actually belonged to his client.

He blamed it on Las Vegas. It was the one city in the world where he was no longer capable of rational thought.

Gillian turned to him. "As for the rest...is it really true that you then went to another casino. One that belongs to one of Ellis' partners, where, out of all the women in Las Vegas, you decide to pick up Ellis' girlfriend and then..._you went back to your hotel room_ _with her?_ Tell me that's a joke, Cal. Because if any of that is true then this trumped up charge is the least of our concerns...it's your sanity that I'm worried about!"

Cal sighed. "Can I point out that Sabrina failed to mention that part to me last night when she came on to me? You know, the part about being Ellis' girlfriend?"

Foster looked at him in disbelief. "So it's true." She shook her head and stared at the wall. "You are_ unbelievable_, Cal."

"It's Vegas..." he tried to explain.

"It's what?"

"Las Vegas...this town does something to me. Makes me crazy."

Gillian's eyes met his and for a moment he couldn't decide whether it was the psychologist trying to analyse him or the angry friend trying to understand.

"Just...don't, okay?"

Gillian rolled her eyes. "Fine. I won't."

"I need you to post the bail," he told her. "And I don't want Zoe finding out about this." Something else suddenly occurred to him. That this could have larger repercussions. Far away from this damn town. This could affect his shared custody of Emily and the thought gave him goose bumps.

"Did you...?" she paused. "Did you sleep with Ellis' girlfriend?"

Cal shook his head. He would have. Because there was something about those gorgeous long legs of hers that he was absolutely incapable of resisting. And he knew that she wanted it just as bad. That she wouldn't have been all over him at the roulette table if she didn't.

Maybe it was because she sensed that sex with him might've been more satisfying that it was with her wanker boyfriend. Women had a sixth-sense when it came to things like that. Cal learned that early on in life. That sex was about giving more than it was about taking. That most men got it all wrong. That if you took just a little time to figure out what you had to do to make it as good for her as it was for you, you'd never have any problems in that department. It's why he never lacked for women, even in times when his competition was taller, richer and better looking.

"Well?" Foster pressed, interrupting his thoughts.

"No," he told her. "We didn't get that far because Ellis and his goons were pounding down my door before we got around to it. Surprised the noise didn't wake you up."

"It did occur to you at one point that these hotels and casinos are littered with cameras, yes?"

Cal groaned. Now she was just lecturing. "I get it, Gill. It was stupid."

He could see her mind working as she got up and grabbed her purse. "Well, at least you didn't sleep with her. That might make him open to reasoning."

"What are you talking about?"

"Ellis," she told him as she gestured to the guard to let her out. "I'm going to call our lawyer in DC and then I'm going to see Ellis. If that doesn't work out, then we'll talk bail."

"And until then?" Cal looked at her in disbelief.

"Until then you can think about how stupid this was."

* * *

><p><em>Later<em>

"You have some nerve, Dr. Foster," Hugh Ellis fumed. "Coming here, thinking you can cut a deal with me after what your partner did."

"I was _thinking..._" she said slowly, as she crossed her legs and leaned her elbows on the table at the police station, wishing she'd thought to wear something a little more commanding. A suit jacket maybe. Or maybe taken the time to put on more make-up than a touch of lipstick. But neither of those had been on her mind after she got the phone call and Cal told her he'd been arrested. "That if you're half the business man you say you are, you'd realize that you're the only person to benefit from this deal."

"Yeah me and your partner, who'd walk away scot-free." He looked disgusted. "How dumb do you think I am? Just because I don't have some Ivy league degree you think I'm an idiot?"

Gillian sighed. "If I thought you were an idiot I wouldn't make you this deal." She took a sip from the cup of coffee she'd grabbed on her way here. "You know your charge won't stick. It's absurd. Dr. Lightman's science has nothing to do with reading someone's mind and knowing whether they're going to fold 'em or hold 'em. It's about emotions."

"So is poker."

"Look," Gillian leaned in towards him again. "I know you're pissed and you're lashing out at Doctor Lightman, but he's not the one trying to cheat you. Has it occurred to you that your girlfriend is the one who came on to him? I mean, you did ask us to look at footage of her as well..."

"Don't you dare..."

The hair on Gillian's arms bristled. "Dare what? Tell you the truth? I thought that's why you hired us."

"Screw you fucking scientists and your fancy numbers and figures! You're just a bunch of liars like the rest of us."

Gillian stood up, ready to leave. "If you're going to talk to me like that you can forget about the offer I made."

"As if I was going to accept it," he snorted. Petulant like an eight-year old. One with a lot of gel in his hair and too much bling on his fingers.

Gillian swirled around to face him. "I thought maybe you were smart enough that you could swallow your misguided pride in order to save your business. Guess I was wrong. See you in court, Mr. Ellis."

"I hired you, Dr. Foster. You owe me what you found out on those tapes."

"We don't owe you anything."

"I don't care about your offer. You signed a contract and I'll pay you the full amount."

"I don't care about the full amount. Drop the charge against Dr. Lightman."

Ellis folded his arms and said nothing.

Gillian exhaled. She was going to have to hammer this one in. "Look...you have people you're working with that are trying to cheat you. You were smart enough to suspect it and that's why you hired us. We're well on our way to finding out exactly who it is and how they're doing it and backing it all up with scientific proof. That information is worth nothing to us...but it's worth_ everything_ to you!"

"It's worth what I'm paying you!" he yelled.

"You not paying us, is a loss that the Lightman Group can swallow. What our company doesn't need is the kind of publicity that comes with a gambling fraud charge. Even if Dr. Lightman is cleared of this charge. And you know he will be." She looked him square in the eye. "But can your business withstand not knowing what we found out?"

Hugh Ellis' irritation was mounting. "I'll fire them all."

Gillian wanted to hit her forehead with the palm of her hand. "That's a brilliant idea. Throw out the baby with the bathwater."

"What?"

"You have good people working for too, Mr. Ellis. My company can tell you exactly who they are. Just drop the damn charge."

"You're a fool if you think I'm going to let Lightman get away with this."

"Right." Gillian got up and straightened her skirt. "I'm the fool here."

She saw Ellis' eyes following her.

"So you're leaving?"

"I have nothing else to say to you." She picked up her purse. "We'll see you in court. Hope you have a good attorney. You'll need one."

Gillian felt her heart beat faster as she walked towards the door, partly terrified that she'd made the wrong call. That she hadn't played her cards right. After all, she knew nothing about gambling.

"Wait..."

She exhaled before turning around to face him again. Maybe she didn't know anything about gambling, but she did know something about people.

"Yes?"

"If I drop the charge, you and Lightman will finish the job for half the amount we agreed to?"

"No," Gillian answered. "I told you two minutes ago that offer was off the table after you started cursing at me."

Ellis looked at her incredulously. "Are you kidding me?"

"No. I keep my word." Gillian said it with more bravado than she felt. Her heart was pounding again and she wanted to retract her words almost as soon as she said them.

_Are you crazy? He was about to agree to dropping the charge, instead of accepting, I shoot myself in the foot. _

Obviously Lightman was rubbing off on her.

Hugh Ellis gave her an icy stare and Gillian felt a cold drop of sweat trickling down her spine.

"You've got some balls, Doctor Foster." He paused after he said it, leaving them both in an uncomfortable silence until finally the corners of his lips curled up into a smile. "You sure you don't wanna work for me? Could use someone like you."

Gillian met his smile with one of her own, as the realization hit her that he wasn't nearly as dense as it looked like.

"I'll drop the charge," he told her. "And I'll pay the Lightman Group what we agreed to. But I do want something in exchange. Something that's not negotiable."

* * *

><p><em>Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department, Holding cells<em>

Cal Lightman got up off the bed as soon as he saw her. "Did you post the bail?"

"No." She told him after the guard let her inside.

"Foster?"

"I didn't need to. Once they finish with the paperwork, you're free to go."

"What?" Cal looked at her in disbelief. "You got him to drop the charge?"

"Yes," Gillian sat down next to him with a sigh. She looked almost as tired as he was.

"_How_?"

"I slept with him."

"You _what_?"

She gave him a look. Narrowing her eyes, stopping just short of rolling them. "I'm kidding."

Cal chuckled. "That was pretty good. Almost believed you for a second."

"There's a lot of things I'll do for you, Cal. That's not one of them."

"Ah yeah?"

She gave him another look. One that made him smile in spite of his exhaustion. "So how'd you convince him? Did you tell him we'd do the job for free?"

"No...but I did remind him that we were about to let him know who's trying to con him. That the information was worth a lot more to him than it was to us."

Cal didn't buy it. "That's all it took?"

Gillian paused and did that thing that she sometimes did, where she weighed her words as she thought about how to soften them, before striking the blow. Because that's what therapists did. Cal knew the answer was no.

"Come on...spit it out. What else does he want?"

"He wants you out of Vegas."

"That's it?"

"For three years."

Cal coughed. His mouth was suddenly feeling very dry. "What?"

"Ellis wants you to sign a legal document stating you won't set foot in Las Vegas for at least three years."

Cal jumped off the bed he'd been sitting on. By contrast Gillian was making herself comfortable. Toeing out of her heels as she curled her legs underneath her and yawned.

"Are you kidding me? Is that even legal? That's madness!"

"Madness?" Gillian raised her brows. "After seeing what Vegas does to you, I think it's a blessing in disguise."

"He can't do that..." Cal started pacing, like a tiger in a cage. "You can't ban someone from a city. What if...I sign that agreement, and come back to Vegas anyway?"

"He said if you do, he'll pursue the gambling fraud charge. That he'll get a lawyer who'll make it stick if it's the last thing he does. Those were his exact words."

"You seriously want me to sign that agreement?"

"Cal?"

"Yeah?"

"Stop pacing! It's driving me crazy."

No Las Vegas for three years. Cal thought about it as he sat back down next to Gillian, leaning against the wall of the cell. It really wasn't that big of a deal. At best he came here once or twice a year. Six visits maximum in a three-year period. Still, it was like someone telling him he couldn't see Zoe for six-months. So what if he barely saw her once a month these days. What mattered was that he _could_, if he wanted to.

"Did you know there was a fire alarm at the hotel last night?" Gillian mumbled, interrupting his thoughts.

"A what?"

"Of course you don't know, because you weren't there then. There was an alarm at one-thirty in the morning. I was asleep for maybe an hour when they announced it over the intercom, telling us to take the stairs down to the lobby, until they investigated. We sat there for over an hour, until we got the okay to go back to the rooms. Then you called..." She yawned again. "At five in the morning and you interrupted this really, really good dream I was having..."

He felt her head leaning against his arm. No wonder she looked as tired as he did.

"What are you trying to say, luv?" he asked her without looking at her. Staring straight ahead, into the windowless wall.

"I'm saying that you're signing that agreement."

Cal kept staring at the wall. Banned from an entire city. What the hell were the chances?

"Cal?"

"Yeah...I'm signing the agreement."

"Good."

He could feel that Gillian was drifting off to sleep as her breathing slowed, her head nestling into the fleshly part of his upper arm, getting comfortable there.

Banned from Las Vegas. He still couldn't quite digest it. Couldn't quite wrap his head around it.

"Gill..."

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"You owe me..." she mumbled before dozing off.

Cal closed his eyes too. They stung with fatigue while Foster's dead weight grew heavier as she leaned into him a little more.

"If you drool on me we're even again."


	34. Changes

**A/N: **I decided to introduce Jack Rader into the next few chapters in what will be another (loose) story arc involving Rader, a new "natural" and Gillian's adoption. I'll probably take some liberties with Rader's character and make him have more of a history with the Lightman Group than he actually did, as I couldn't quite figure out from the show how Rader really figured into Cal's past. At first I thought Cal knew him prior to the Lightman Group, but then, considering Jack knew Gillian as well, I figured he had to have had contact with them at some point while their company already existed.

Many thanks for those still stopping by with your feedback, thirty-four chapters in! (way longer than planned. as always. lol) It's always appreciated! And a special shout-out to those who leave it anonymously, as I can't message you a thank you!

* * *

><p><strong>XXXIV) Changes <strong>

_Lightman Group, Washington DC _

Her cell phone started ringing just after she pulled the car into the parking lot.

Gillian took the Metro to work more often than not, but today was the first chilly day of Fall and she couldn't bring herself to fully bundle up for elements yet. Couldn't be bothered to dig out a jacket. Not after five months of sweltering temperatures.

It rang three times before she turned off the engine and answered it.

_"Yes, this is Gillian." _

_"I see..." _

_"In three months? Or maybe even... sooner?" _

Gillian exhaled. Not knowing what to think. Whether to be ecstatic or terrified. Or both.

_"Yes...yes, I'm here." _

_"The paperwork, yeah of course we'll come by. But I need to talk to my husband about this." _

_"We'll let you know tomorrow. Thank you." _

She ended the call and sat in her car for several long minutes before finally her heart stopped pounding.

* * *

><p><em>Washington DC<em>

_Next day _

Cal drove them to their destination. Even though they probably could have walked. The building was really close to their current office.

Cal grinned at her after he found a street-level parking spot. He was in a particularly good mood today.

"Excited to see it?"

"Yes," Gillian agreed, still not entirely convinced they could afford it, even if she'd been the one who made the calculations that decided they could. Mostly because her calculations depended on them taking on a certain amount of new business that hadn't figured into her latest change of plans.

Worst of all, she hadn't told Cal that part yet.

"You don't look excited," he told her. "Apprehension is what I'm seeing."

"It's a big change," she admitted.

"A necessary and long overdue change," he corrected her. "At first we said a new office in two years, Foster. It's been over five now. If we try to squeeze anymore equipment and staff into our current office we'll burst at the seams."

Cal was right about that part. They needed a new office. Desperately. They had six research assistants working for them now and four of them had to work from home most of the time because there was no place to put them. They had to schedule themselves around each other in order to use their equipment, instead of working as one cohesive team. They'd even moved Wei-Ling's desk and computer into their own office to make space outside.

Their work space situation was getting ridiculous and Gillian knew it.

But this move would mean going from two rooms to two _floors_. It wasn't just an improvement, it was a massive, expensive leap forward. One that could also put them on the map in a big way.

It was exactly the kind of risk that Cal Lightman thrived on and the kind that terrified her. Gillian suspected it had a lot to do with Cal's good mood today. After all, he liked to gamble.

The building manager was already standing at the front door, waiting for them.

He extended his hand to both of them, greeting them before holding the door open for them and leading them inside, eager to give them a tour of what might become the new home of the Lightman Group.

* * *

><p><em>Later<em>

"Feel free to have a look around on your own," the man told them. "Just bring the key cards to my office when you're done."

"Will do," Cal told him, taking the keys from the man's hand, before turning to her. "Wanna do one more walk around?"

"Sure," she agreed. Not that she really needed it. She was in love with the place already. It was spacious and modern and exactly the kind of office space she'd envisioned for the Lightman Group when they created it half a decade ago. She loved the high ceilings and the uneven pillars that jutted out at different angles and gave it a futuristic look.

"This would be my office..." Cal pointed out as they poked their heads into one of the largest office rooms on the floor.

"It's about twice as big as the room you want to use for mine."

"You want this one? I don't care. You can have it."

"I didn't say that."

Cal shifted his weight, from one foot onto the other. As he sometimes did when he was full of pent up energy. "Thought I'd save you the trouble of insisting that I should get the bigger office."

He had a point. Gillian would have insisted he take the bigger office. It was his science and his name on the door after all, even if they were equal partners on paper. Their clients came to them because of Cal Lightman. That was the truth and her ego could handle it.

"Besides you love this room," he told her as they walked by the one that would hers. Her_ own_ office. Finally. After all this time. "It's much brighter than mine. You can leave the blinds open and it'll be ninety degrees in here in February. Just the way you like it."

Cal was right about that part too. She loved the big windows most of all. Loved the warmth and brightness of it, in spite of its modern lay out.

"And look," he added, fiddling with the door handle. "Sturdy locks on the door, for when you stay late on Friday evenings and your husband stops by to visit."

Gillian felt her cheeks blush. He was never going to let her live that one down.

There were two large windowless rooms on the lower floor too. Rooms that might not have held any appeal for other corporate clients, but that would make perfect lab rooms for them. The space felt like it was meant for the Lightman Group.

"I love it, Gill. Really love it."

She did too. No argument there. "Me too."

"Let's take it."

She wanted to say yes, but instead she reminded him of how big it was. "Do we really need this much space?"

"We do if we plan to keep growing. That is the plan, isn't it?"

"Yeah..." Gillian nodded. It was the plan. They'd done well so far. But they both knew there was so much potential for the company to go further.

"We have almost a hundred thousand dollars worth of equipment sitting in storage right now, because we have nowhere to put it. It's madness."

That was a good point too. They walked back to the elevator while Cal fiddled with the keys. "There's a coffee shop around the corner," Gillian told him when they were inside. "Can we talk about it over a coffee?"

Cal looked at her, not bothering to hide that he was reading her, trying to figure out what she was hiding. "Sure."

* * *

><p><em>Later <em>

"Here you are." The barista handed her the piece of marble cake along with the cappuccino she ordered. Gillian smiled at the sight, glad that she decided to get it. It looked so fresh and moist.

They didn't really have time for a prolonged coffee break in the middle of the day, but it had been a while since they sat down and had a genuine conversation. They were overdue for that too.

Most of their interaction in the last few months involved them picking each other's brains either at the beginning or the end of the day and it was because they rarely worked on cases together from beginning to end anymore. After Gillian finished the Hugh Ellis contract on her own in Las Vegas, nearly ten months ago, they'd decided that her grasp of his science was good enough that they could double the number of cases they took on by splitting up most of the time. As long as they had the help of their research assistants, who did the background research and the number crunching for them.

They still consulted each other on all the cases they took on, and worked together on occasion, but their new way of doing business had changed the way they operated and it helped to expand the Group.

Now they just needed a couple more people who could fill in their shoes.

"That's gonna spoil your lunch," Cal told her, as he seeped his tea bag and poured some milk into his cup.

"I know," she smiled, cutting off a piece with her fork. "And I don't care."

"You gonna tell me what's bugging you?" he asked, reminding her that even after all this time he still didn't do small talk.

"I got a call from the adoption agency yesterday," she told him. "They have a baby for me and Alec."

"Hey... that's great," he told her, taking his attention away from his tea bag and focusing on her.

"Is it?" Gillian eyed him. Business wise it was lousy timing. They both knew it and she wanted to see his honest reaction.

"Yeah..." he looked surprised at her question. Nothing more. " 'Course it is."

_Wait 'til I tell you the rest. _

"I want to take four months off."

This time he did raise his brows. "Four months?"

Gillian nodded. "The baby's biological mom is in rehab for drug and alcohol abuse. She was a heavy user in the first trimester, so there's a good chance the baby might be born with some health problems and cognitive issues. There will probably be a lot of doctor's visits in the first few months. I want to be there for that. For...all of it."

"Four months..." he repeated as if needing to let it sink in. Until finally it did and he was oddly unfazed by it. "Starting when?"

"She's six months pregnant now," Gillian told him.

"So in two or three months." He pursed his lips, his mind working. "Alright.."

"I know it's bad timing."

"Wait a minute..." Cal looked at her incredulously. "You waited _how_ long for this now?"

Gillian bit her lips. It _had_ been a long wait. Over five years now. There was the two-year old they were supposed to adopt a year ago. Until his absent grandmother came back into the picture and was granted full custody. Then there was the baby they were slated to adopt nearly three years ago. The little girl who was still-born. Five years of hopes raised and dashed again. So much so that she was reluctant to get them up again, even now.

Even now when she so badly wanted to believe it would finally happen.

"It has been a long time..." she admitted.

"No such thing as a perfect time to build a family."

"I know," she agreed. "But we can't move into a new office and cut our cases in half the minute we do it. It's just not possible financially."

"So we won't."

"Won't move?"

"Won't cut our cases in half."

"But how...?" Gillian didn't understand. None of their research assistants could handle their own cases. Not yet. Not for some time, if ever. Most of them didn't even want to pursue a career in this particular field of behavioural science.

"The girl who took the deception test last week, Noelle. She's a natural, I'm sure of it. I want to bring her in to the Lightman Group."

Gillian vaguely remembered the young woman. She'd been Cal's waitress at a restaurant and he'd struck up a conversation with her, deciding then and there that she had an uncanny eye for spotting deception. He'd asked her if she was interested in taking a few tests at the Lightman Group. That he'd be willing to pay her for her time. So of course she agreed.

Gillian had met her only briefly, Cal was the one who'd run the two-hour test on her at the office, but there was something off about the woman. Something that she couldn't quite figure out.

"She's young," Gillian pointed out, finishing off her slice of cake. "_Really_ young." Noelle couldn't have been more than twenty-one or twenty-two.

"You need to train naturals young. If you don't there's a good chance their abilities will diminish over time."

Gillian was sceptical. Not sure how Cal's natural could possibly solve their upcoming staffing crisis.

"Aside from her, I also want to make Jack Rader an offer."

"Who?"

"Jack Rader's an expert at reading micro-expressions. He's spent most of his academic career, if you can call it that, studying _my_ science, of all things. Except he's always seen it as a means of cutting a profit."

"Why haven't you mentioned this guy before?"

"Because he's a cocky and ambitious and I don't trust him?"

"But you trust him now?"

Cal shrugged his shoulders. "Any port in a storm, yeah? Besides, ambition could be a good thing if we're trying to expand."

Gillian smirked. "Can't wait to meet him."

"If we sign the lease we can move in two weeks. After the move we bring in Noelle and Rader and by the time the baby's born they'll be settled in. And then...when you come back, then we can _really_ take the company to another level."

"You sure they'll want to join the Group?"

He gave her a cocky grin. "Of course."

"Hey..." Cal took another sip of his tea. "Don't you dare feel guilty for this. This is...it's fantastic. We'll make it work. At the end of the day, what the hell is more important than family?"

Gillian's eyes met his. It surprised her. His reaction. But it shouldn't have. No matter how much grief he gave her sometimes she knew that Cal Lightman cared about her, deeply and genuinely, and that he wanted happiness for her as much as she wanted it for him. She saw sadness and regret in his eyes too. A reminder that he'd lost his own family not so long ago. That he still missed it every single day.

"I know," she agreed. "You're right."

"I'm always right," he raised his almost empty tea cup in a toast to her, his good mood infectious now. "Congratulations, Mum."

"Thanks." Gillian raised her cappuccino cup and clicked it with his, returning his smile as she felt herself relax. For the first time since the phone call yesterday, she was ready to believe that maybe it really would all work out this time.


	35. The Natural

**XXXV)** **The Natural**

_Near Baltimore, Maryland _

"I really need to go, Gillian," Noelle Nehru told her, crossing one long bare leg in front of another, inching her short dress even higher up her thighs.

Gillian didn't feel like making another stop. They were so close to their destination. She just wanted to get this done. Interview the client and drive back to DC and get home before dark just for once. There was still much to do to get the nursery ready.

"We're almost there," Gillian told her. It sounded whiny to her own ears.

"I don't think I can wait..."

"Fine," Gillian mumbled, signalling before she crossed over to the right hand lane. The next exit was less than a mile away.

Noelle flashed her a mildly apologetic smile. "Thank you."

Gillian pulled over at the first gas station she spotted, even if it wasn't a particularly pleasant one. Noelle made a face, about to protest until she caught Gillian's look and realized instantly that it would be pointless.

She _was_ good. Gillian had to give her that much. She really was a natural. One of the very few individuals that could read micro-expressions without any training. It was gift. The same way others had a gift for music or sport.

Noelle grabbed her purse and pulled down her tight dress, taking a few awkward steps out of the car onto the uneven ground with her high heels.

Gillian's eyes followed her. They observed the young woman as she charmed the cashier while asking for a key to the toilet.

Noelle was gorgeous. Tall and slender, with long, straight, black hair and dark, exotic eyes thanks to a background that was a melting pot of a half dozen nationalities. Trinidadian. Indian. English. German. Native American. Gillian lost track. Noelle reminded her a little of Zoe, and Gillian wondered if that helped explain at least part of Cal's fascination with her.

Noelle nearly tripped as she walked around the building, over bits of gravel and patches of grass en route to the washroom. Her heels were ridiculously high and her dress tantalizingly short.

It made Gillian think of Alec.

_Next time you tell me I dress too sexy, I'll introduce you to my new colleague._

Noelle had the figure to pull it off. And she knew it too, but watching her now made Gillian think it was all a bit much. Maybe she'd ask Cal to talk to her when they got back to the office. Noelle wouldn't take it the wrong way if it came from Lightman. Her respect for him bordered on worship. It hadn't escaped Gillian that Noelle called her by her first name while Cal was always "Dr. Lightman."

She pulled her cell phone out of her purse to check the time, unable to stifle a yawn. They left DC early enough that even with the beginnings of afternoon rush hour traffic and the unexpected stop, they should still make it to their appointment with time to spare.

Gillian closed her eyes, fighting back the urge to fall asleep, hating how tired she was these days.

The office move had taken a lot out of them. They worked thirteen out of the last fourteen days and she was starting to hit a wall. It almost reminded her of their early days. It felt like they were starting over again. It was hectic, exhausting and exciting all at once.

Ten minutes later Noelle still wasn't back and Gillian started to feel guilty. What if she really was sick? Instead of showing a little compassion, Gillian had been too tired and cranky to care.

Fifteen minutes later and Noelle finally emerged, handing the gas station attention back his key before rushing back to the car, slightly out of breath as she sat down and fasted her seatbelt.

"You alright?" Gillian asked her.

"I'm great," she answered with a smile. "Thanks for asking, Gillian."

She was full of restless energy now, crossing and uncrossing her legs twice before Gillian even turned on the ignition.

Something suddenly dawned on her. More memory than awareness.

"You sure?"

"Yes, yes, for sure. Just kinda nervous, you know. It's only my second case and you and Dr. Lightman, you're so good at this. It's kinda intimidating sometimes, makes me feel like I'm back in school and have to give a speech or something, you know?"

Gillian turned to her and saw exactly what she was looking for. The dilated pupils and flushed cheeks to go along with her rushed speech.

How could she have missed all the signs? She of all people?

"Why aren't we moving?" Noelle asked. "I thought we were in a hurry?"

Gillian made no move to turn on the engine. "What did you do in that bathroom?"

"Huh?" Noelle was baffled by the question. "I peed..." She giggled a little. "And then I...did more than pee. Is this, like company policy or something, that I have to give you details when each time I go, 'cause Doctor Lightman didn't..."

Gillian didn't have the patience for this. "What did you take? I'd guess cocaine but there's a lot of other crap out there that produces similar effects."

"_What_?" Noelle's dark eyes widened.

"Don't play dumb with me."

"What are you talking about?" Noelle shot back, her beautiful face full of indignation. "Are you out to get me or something? I know you don't like me, I'm not that stupid that I don't notice. I mean I have this skill to read people, right? But this is crazy! I wasn't feeling well so I had to use the bathroom. Is this just because I didn't come out in five minutes? _Drugs?_ That's crazy! Do I look like a junkie to you?"

Her indignation was so impressive, Gillian almost wanted to applaud. It reminded her that some naturals didn't just have a stellar records when it came to spotting deception. Some of them were equally excellent deceivers.

"Are you done?"

"Gillian, why are you doing this?" Noelle asked, her voice teary now, as her gorgeous eyes moistened. "What did I do to you?"

Noelle was turning things around so fast it made her head spin. "I asked you a simple question."

"I did! I told you I don't do drugs!" The were tears in her eyes now. "I would never do anything to mess this job up...this is like, the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Gillian exhaled. "Can we stop this act? Just for a second?"

Noelle wiped away a tear with the back of her hand. "I don't get it, Gillian. I really like you. You're so smart and beautiful...it's not like you should be threatened by me right? Is it because you're scared that maybe Doctor Lightman likes..."

Gillian didn't like the turn this was taking, so she cut her off before she had a chance to go on. "You're not just wrong. You're way out of line now."

Noelle put a hand over her mouth, instantly regretting what had just come out of it. "I'm sorry...that's not what I meant."

"Let's get something straight," Gillian told her. "I _know_ you did drugs in that bathroom. You and Lightman aren't the only ones who can spot a liar."

And with that accusation, Noelle's lips started quivering and Lightman's prodigy starting sobbing uncontrollably. Her body was shaking and Gillian saw the gas station attendant staring at the them through his window.

"I'm sorry," was all she said between tears. "I'm...I'm such a fuck up. I knew this was too good to be true for someone like me."

Gillian leaned back in her seat and waited until she was finished, handing her a box of tissues when she was done. Waiting until she blew her nose and regained her composure.

"You're gonna fire me," was what she finally said. There was so much self-loathing and resignation in her voice that it was hard to stay angry with her.

It was Alec all over again.

_You're a mess, Noelle. A beautiful, gifted mess. _

"You need help," Gillian said softly. "If you need drugs to get through a client interview it means you need help. Professional help. It also means that maybe this job isn't for you."

"No, that's not true." Her words brought on a fresh set of tears. "I want this so badly."

"Do you want to get help?"

Noelle nodded. "Yeah..."

"Alright," Gillian offered, wondering if this was a good idea even as she said. "Then let me help you get help."

Noelle was surprised. "You'd do that?"

Truth was she didn't want to. Didn't want the responsibility of it all. Not when there was so much else on her plate. But she wasn't quite selfish enough to admit it. She never was.

"Yes."

"Are you going to tell Lightman?"

"He has a right to know."

Noelle started crying again. "I don't want him to know. Please, Gillian..._please_. Not yet. Please, _please_."

Gillian sighed. She didn't want to keep this from Cal. Not telling him felt like a betrayal.

"_Please_, Gillian."

"You're going to get treatment and once you do that, I'm going to let Doctor Lightman know."

Noelle's lower lip quivered a little. "Okay. Thank you."

Gillian had another look at her cell phone and wanted to groan. They were officially running late now. And she'd have to leave Noelle in the car. Couldn't risk taking her along to meet their client when she was high.

Gillian turned on the ignition and pressed on the gas, sending an angry cloud of dust into the air as the car flew out of the gas station.

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Group, Washington DC <em>

_Next day _

Jack Rader was grinning from ear to ear after the client stepped out of the Cube.

"Don't ever think I'll get tired of using that machine," he told Cal. "It's a beauty. Wish I could take her home with me."

Cal Lightman escorted their client out of the room before turning back to Rader. "Don't even think about it."

He wondered if Rader would've been as impressed to know that it took him and Foster and two technicians a week to get the Cube to work again after their move.

He spotted Foster in the doorway and remembered that he needed to talk to her. "Can you take over the interview with the two painters for me?" he asked Rader.

There wasn't the slightest hesitation as Jack Rader adjusted his designer tie. "Of course. Be my pleasure. Give me the file."

Cal handed it to him, just as he lost Gillian in his line of vision. "Foster!" he called out to her. "Can I see you for a sec?"

Gillian stepped back into the room.

"Dr. Foster," Jack cut in before Cal had a chance to say anything. "Nice to see you. How are you...?"

"I need to talk to you," Cal told her, cutting off Rader before she had a chance to answer. It took some getting used to. The number of people that surrounded them these days. In reality it was only two extra staff members since their move last month, but it felt like a lot more because all their research assistants were on site now. All the time.

Cal draped his arm over Foster's shoulder, irritated by the way Rader looked at her. As if she were some sort of prize, up for grabs. Then again, much of what Rader did irritated him. It was wrong and irrational and Cal knew he had to get over it sooner rather than later if they were going to keep him on staff.

"What's going on?" Foster asked him as they walked down the corridor. Half the rooms were still empty and some of the occupied ones were still full of boxes.

"Come sit on my couch, doc," he told her as he led her into his office with a grin. Funny, how his mood changed when he was around her and away from Rader.

"Nice!" She exclaimed, impressed by his brand new leather couch. "When did you get this? Are you sure we can fit this into the budget?"

"Too late. Was delivered this morning. You missed the moving madness." Cal gestured towards it. "Go on. Try it out."

Gillian slipped out of her heels and sat down on the soft leather, curling her legs underneath her. "Comfy. Might just stay here all day. Can you bring me a coffee and a biscotti?"

Cal chuckled and plopped himself down next to her. "It'll cost you. I charge by the hour when you're on that thing."

Foster's blue eyes narrowed and the corner of her lips rose into a teasing smile. "Satisfaction guaranteed?"

"Course, luv. Always." Cal's eyes met hers and for just an instant something flickered between them. Something more than friendship.

Cal enjoyed the subtle sliver of electricity that coursed through his body in response to their flirting, innocent as it was. Deep down he could acknowledge that he was a little bit in love with her. It wasn't something he felt guilty about. After all, who would blame him? It wasn't hard to fall in love with Foster.

Not that anything would ever come of it. Or that her emotions had ever betrayed any similar feelings for him.

That is, until now.

Cal couldn't quite believe what he saw. It was only there for a second, until she guiltily averted his gaze and pulled her legs a little closer in retreat. But there was no mistaking it.

It scared him a little; what he saw. But it thrilled him too.

And that made him wonder if he wanted it more than he'd ever admit. Made him force his thoughts back into other directions and remind himself why he wanted to see her in the first place. Remind himself that it would never happen. That his wanting it made no difference.

"How's it going with the oncologist in Baltimore?"

"Good," she answered, her voice level and business-like again. "I think we'll wrap things up there tomorrow. There's not a lot of deception going on there. Just a lot of paranoia. Easy paycheque for us."

Cal already knew that part. "How's Noelle doing?"

"She's very good at reading people."

"But...?"

"But what?"

"There's a but coming...isn't there?"

"But...I think she's too young and in over her head with this."

"She came to see me last night," he told her. "There were lots of tears and hysterics. She said you accused her of taking drugs. That she was afraid you'd fire her and that..."

"She did _what_?" Gillian leaned forward in disbelief. "That little..."

"Hang on..." Cal held up his hand. "Lemme finish. She swore up and down to me that she'd never done drugs."

"She admitted it to _me_!" Gillian shot back. "She even said she wanted to get help!"

"Noelle told me she admitted it to you, because you were so adamant about it. Refused to believe anything she said."

"Right, that makes sense. That girl is one hell of an actress. Please tell me you didn't buy it."

"I want to hear your side," he told her. "And if you really think she's doing drugs, how the hell did it not occur to you to tell me?"

"Of course it did," Gillian explained, not bothering to hide her anger. "But she begged and pleaded for me not to! So I agreed to tell you as soon as she entered a treatment programme."

"I see."

"_Cal_?" Gillian eyed him with the kind of intensity she only had when she was trying to read him. "Tell me you didn't believe her?"

"I saw no signs of deception from her last night."

Gillian stopped just short of rolling her eyes. Her irritation was almost palpable now.

"Is there a chance you could've been wrong?" he asked her calmly, not in the mood to antagonize her further.

"What do you mean?"

"Did you_ see_ her do drugs?"

"No...she was in the bathroom!"

"I'm just sayin', we're both exhausted this week. You're not crazy about this girl and..."

"I saw the immediate effects, Cal!" she jumped in, defensively. "The dilated pupils, the quick breathing, the rapid speech...this wasn't about me going on a witch hunt! You know me _better_ than that."

Gillian got up off the sofa and put her shoes back on. Cal sensed that she was about to storm out of his office, so he grabbed her arm before she had the chance.

"Since when do you have an intimate familiarity with the after-effects of drug use?"

Her eyes met his angrily and for a split second what he read in them threw him for a loop. Cal had to remind himself that he was tired too. Exhaustion sometimes made you see things that weren't there. Things that didn't make sense.

She let the question hang in the air for a long moment before answering. "You're right. I don't."

"So it's possible that..."

"I've counselled my fair share of addicts at the Pentagon, Cal," she cut him off. "I think I have_ some_ clue as to what I'm talking about."

"Look," he got up in order to loosen his grip on her. "I'm willing to believe she went into that bathroom and took something to calm her nerves. Didn't we all do that at least once in our grad school days? Doesn't make her a drug addict, Gill. It's a new job and she's stressing because she wants it so bad."

"I suggest we teach her some better coping mechanisms then." Gillian remarked. "It's not even what she did at that gas station yesterday that's bothering me now. It's what she did afterwards, running to you behind my back. Lying shamelessly because she knows how good she is at it."

"Noelle knows you don't like her. It's why she feels threatened by you."

"I don't trust her," Gillian told him. "There's a difference."

"_I _can tell you don't like her. That means_ she_ can tell and Noelle defends herself by going on the offensive."

Gillian crossed her arms now. It was such a defensive gesture it almost amused him.

"Since when are you the shrink?"

"Did you know she was in and out twelve foster homes before she turned sixteen? That her father was charged with raping her when she was fifteen? Her mother died when she was six."

Cal saw Gillian's expression soften. "How come you didn't tell me any of that?"

"A lot of naturals get their gift because of their abusive childhoods. You know that."

"So we let her get away with lying and doing drugs?"

"Not sayin' that, luv. Let's just give her one more chance, yeah?"

She uncrossed her arms and threw them in the air in defeat. "Fine. Your call."

It wasn't fine with her, Cal knew that. But he wasn't ready to give up on his prodigy yet. There was too much about Noelle that reminded him of himself. The ability to go for the jugular and do whatever it takes to get out of a mess. The lousy childhood that she somehow survived on sheer guts alone.

She came with a boatload of baggage. Contrary to what Foster thought, he wasn't blind to it. But she was also feisty, gorgeous and gifted and that part of her reminded him of Zoe. For that alone he wanted her around just a little longer, even if the rational part of him knew it probably wouldn't work out in the long run.

"Lemme finish the case in Baltimore with Noelle. You and Rader can take care of the painters."

"Fine," Gillian conceded. "How_ is_ Rader coming along?" Gillian asked and the look on her face suggested she knew that he'd be the one going on the defensive now.

"He's fantastic."

There was a smirk on her face now, her anger slowly fading. "Is that right?"

"You know what he suggested today?"

"What?"

"That we set up this giant backlit photo-set in the main hallway. Full of famous faces making various expressions, you know as a conversation starter for visiting clients."

Gillian put her hands together, as she sometimes did when she got excited. For all her propriety and seriousness, there were plenty of moments when she was a bigger kid than he was. "Oh...I like it!"

Cal cringed. Of course she would. Either that or taking Rader's side was just pay-back for Noelle. "I hate it. It's so...bloody commercial."

"You used examples of celebrity expression in your own book! Don't you remember? Besides, we _are_ a business."

"Everything to Rader is about profit and exposure. Sometimes I think the science is just a means to an end for him. When instead it should be the reason we're here."

Gillian shrugged her shoulders. "I think it's good to finally have someone on our team who thinks like a businessman. You and me, we're both scientists. We have very little business acumen."

"Oh yeah? So it's just luck that turned this into a thriving company?"

"It took us five years to move out of our two-room office. Maybe if Rader was around sooner it would've taken only one or two."

Cal made a face. "Now you're pushing it."

"If we're keeping Noelle, then we're keeping Rader."

Cal put an arm around Foster's shoulders as he ambled out of the office with her. It was good to know that when they disagreed these days it was just that. A disagreement. Nothing more, nothing less. They'd finally come to a stage where it would take a lot more to drive a wedge between them. "You drive a hard bargain."

"I really like the photo-set idea in the hallway. The famous faces."

Cal groaned. "Really?"

Foster nodded. "Yeah, really."

"You're not just sayin' that to piss me off?"

She was smiling now. "Okay, maybe a little."


	36. The Instigators

**XXXVI)** **The Instigators**

_Washington DC_

They were sitting in crowded food court at a mall. Killing time. Because their latest client suddenly called to say he was running late.

Jack Rader made an airborne stab at her plate with his fork. "That's a lot of sugar in one serving."

Gillian mimicked his gesture with her fork. "That's a lot of sodium and MSG in yours. And beef." She smiled. "We hope."

Jack Rader choked a little. "You enjoy that waffle, Foster. With your strawberries and whipped cream."

Gillian hoisted the little cup it came with and poured it over her dessert. "Don't forget the chocolate sauce."

Rader shuddered.

"You know you want some," she told him, cutting off a generous piece with her fork. "I can tell."

"Thought we weren't supposed to read other?"

Gillian smiled. "That only applies to me and Lightman. Besides, we can read other. We just don't always probe the things we see."

She noticed that Jack Rader ate the same way he did everything. Quickly and full of energy and purpose. As if it might be his last meal for a few days. It reminded her of Cal. The two men were more alike than either one would ever admit. Two brilliant, dominant, alpha males working together in a company that probably only had room for one. It was likely why she spent most of her time working with Rader lately. While Cal did his best to keep her and Noelle apart.

Rader finished his meal much sooner than she did.

Gillian pointed to her plate. "Go ahead...help yourself."

Rader reached over without hesitation and helped himself to a big chunk of her waffle.

"Few months ago there was a big article in the Post about the Lightman Group," he pointed out, mouth full. "Bet that gave you a lot of new business."

"It did."

Rader reached over for a second bite. "Was a glowing piece on the company and Lightman's science. How he took it from the halls of academia and made it functional and commercially viable."

"It was a nice article for us," she agreed. "Free publicity."

"For Lightman," he corrected her. "The article didn't even mention your name. Truth be told, I was surprised to find out he had a partner when he asked me to join the Group."

"What exactly are you getting at?" Gillian asked him.

"Just saying, if you were my partner, I'd make sure the world knew it."

"How would you know what Cal said in that interview? Or how much was cut from that article by the time it was published?"

"So you're saying he did mention you but it was cut?"

Gillian didn't say anything. She had no idea what exactly Cal said in that interview. She hadn't even been in town that afternoon. She'd read it a week later and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't bothered by the fact that her name wasn't mentioned. Or by the fact that Cal didn't really understand why she'd been hurt in the first place.

Even so, she didn't like that she was letting Jack Rader use it to get under her skin.

He smirked. "You have no idea what he said. Or what got cut."

Gillian leaned in towards him. "Can I give you a word of advice, Rader?"

"Course," he replied with an earnestness that took her by surprise. "I respect your opinion."

"Stop pushing so hard and don't always wear your ambition on your sleeve. You've been with us, what a few weeks? Already I feel like you're aiming for a corporate takeover."

Rader laughed. "Almost two months. Time flies when you're having fun, Gillian."

"I'm serious," she chided him. Part of her liked his transparency and his eagerness. It was a stark contrast to Noelle Nehru.

"Why would I lie about my ambitions?" he told her, reaching over for the last of her dessert. "What would be the point when both of you could see right through it anyway?"

Gillian frowned. He had a point there.

"I want to be where Lightman is," he admitted. "He's doing what I've wanted to do for years. I want my name on the door, Gillian. I'm not gonna lie. I'll work hard for it. I'll put in the time and the effort and I'm ready to do whatever it takes to make this company grow and succeed way beyond its expectations. But at but at the end of the day I want something for it in return. I'm not content to play second fiddle for the rest of my career. I want equal billing."

"Is that what you think I'm doing, playing second fiddle to Cal Lightman?"

For the first time since she'd met him she saw Jack Rader hesitate, before he slowly nodded.

"I'm not saying there's anything wrong with it, if you're happy at it. But yeah, I think that's what you're doing. I also think as long as you stay with Lightman that's what you'll always be doing."

There was no maliciousness in the way he said it. He was making a simple observation and sharing it with her.

Still, it made her cheeks burn even though she wasn't convinced it was the truth. Gillian knew that she was letting her emotions play right into his hands.

"Take Noelle for instance," he pointed out. "You don't like her. But Lightman doesn't care and he _should_ care if you're his partner."

"I know you can see a lot of things, Jack," she told him. "But sometimes there's more than what you see on the surface."

"And sometimes you're so close to a person, that you're blind to the things that a casual observer can see with ease."

Gillian fought back the many emotions that toyed with her now. Tried to remind herself that Rader saying it didn't make it true. "Don't you think you should spend a few months with us before you plan on putting your name on the door?"

"I know I have to pay my dues, Gillian." He said as frankly as he checked the time on his Rolex watch. It was just one more thing he shared with Cal. An affinity for expensive Swiss timepieces. "I know it'll be a couple of years before I can even think to approach Lightman about it. But I'm not ashamed to let you know my plans before then. Or to tell you that if Lightman won't give me what I need that I'll use what I've learned to break off on my own. I figure by then the Group will probably need a little competition." He flashed her a grin. "Maybe I'll even take you with me."

She had to laud his audacity, even if it left her speechless. "I don't even know what to say to that."

"Yes?"

"No."

Rader laughed. "I have lots of time to make you change your mind."

_If you and Lightman don't kill each other first. _"We should get going," she told him, clearing her tray from the table as she got up, noticing that Rader was going to leave his there, until he caught her disapproving look and picked it up too.

"Rader-Foster Group. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

"Foster & Associates sounds much better to me." Gillian replied, shaking her head in amusement.

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Group, Washington DC <em>

It was getting colder now as Fall was nearing the end and rolling into winter. It was nothing compared to the damp chill of northern England, but for DC it was well into the time of year when you saw more coats and scarves than dresses and skirts with bare legs.

Noelle Nehru was the exception to that rule. Cal Lightman saw her standing outside on one of their terraces, wearing short sleeves and a very short skirt. By contrast he had on a suit jacket and Foster had already turned the heat on in her office.

It still boggled his mind sometimes that they were in an office now that had not one, but multiple outside terraces. Multiple offices. Rooms. Labs. Multiple everything. And it was all his. _Theirs_.

Cal walked out to see his prodigy just as she lit up a cigarette. He'd spent two hours with her, trying to teach her to understand micro-expressions from a more scientific and a less instinctual angle. Even tried to teach her some facial coding.

After two hours she looked like she was ready to crawl out of her skin. Either that or fall asleep and she'd begged him for a quick break. Brilliant as she was by nature, his prodigy wasn't the easiest person to teach. Cal was impressed that she managed even the two hours today and knew that if it was any other teacher but him she'd have done something to get out of it.

"Aren't you freezing?" he asked her.

"Nah..." Noelle smiled at him. Her expression relaxed now that she was away from the stifling atmosphere of his office and his textbooks. "I lived in Alaska for a while when I was a kid. This is what we'd call t-shirt weather."

She offered him a cigarette.

"I don't smoke."

"But you want one."

He'd quit a long time ago. But Noelle was right. He did. It was unnerving sometimes. How much she could see with one look at his face.

He took a cigarette from her and let her light it for him.

"I shouldn't..." he admitted as he took in a slow, long drag.

Noelle smiled. "Even you only live once, Dr. Lightman. Do the things you want to do."

Cal didn't say anything, staring into the lights of the city. It was the first time he'd come out here at night and it suddenly struck him how beautiful it was.

"I'm not a good girl, like Gillian," Noelle whispered, exhaling a white cloud of smoke into the crisp evening air. "I won't judge you."

"I quit when Emily was born," he told her, pretending that he hadn't picked up on her blatant flirting. Or the stab she took at Foster. Because most of time he felt a twinge of guilt for the way she made him feel. Noelle Nehru was a gorgeous woman who kept saying all the things he wanted to hear.

Part of him wanted to give in to the urges he felt whenever he was around her.

_Why the hell not? She's legal. I'm single. And she's the one coming on to me every chance she gets. _

_Except I'm also her boss._

He'd gone more than five years without sleeping with anyone at the Lightman Group. It was almost a rule at this point. Much like the agreement he had with Foster, not to probe, pester and poke her nose into her business, unless she wanted him.

_This is another line I probably shouldn't cross. _

"Didn't want to smell like stale cigarettes when I gave my daughter a kiss," he explained, unable to resist a glance at her long, perfect legs.

"You're a good father."

Cal ignored the compliment. "I want you to spend some time with Foster tomorrow. Do some voice stress analysis with her. It'll hone your skills."

"Okay..." she agreed, turning away from him to face the skyline. But not before he caught the faintest downturn at the corner of her lips. Disgust. It bothered him a little, the extent of her dislike for his partner.

"Look, just because you're a natural doesn't mean you've got nothing to learn. In fact you've got more to learn."

"Voice-stress analysis, really?" she questioned.

"That and everything else," he answered. "You're uneducated, Noelle."

He saw how much that stung her. Cal put out his cigarette, half finished. "It's not an insult, luv. It's a fact. It's bloody fabulous that you can do all this without having had to spend a decade learning it, but I need more than lie detectors around here. I need people who can work a case and put together a report. People who can understand and interpret the science behind what they're seeing."

"What am I supposed to do? Go out and get a college degree?"

"No," he scoffed. "Just learn what we're trying to teach you."

"Right..." Noelle inhaled deeply and stared out into the night sky, too petulant to risk a look in his direction.

"Cal..."

He heard Foster's voice from inside the building.

"Foster?"

"Can I talk to you for a sec?"

Lightman spotted Rader in the hallway too now. They must have just gotten back from security firm that hired them last week for some applicant screening.

"Yeah, sure."

Gillian tilted her head just a little, directing him away from Rader, letting him know she wanted to talk to him alone.

Rader was about to follow them, until Cal gave him a look that said "piss off."

Cal smiled to himself as he walked ahead of his partner.

Sometimes their skills really did make communication a simple thing.

* * *

><p>Jack Rader stepped out into the open-air terrace next to Noelle.<p>

She turned to him, leaning against the guard rail, folding her arms even as she held on to her cigarette, giving him a smug look. "You hate that, don't you? That you don't belong to their exclusive little inner circle. That they go off on their own and have these little closed door discussions."

Rader smirked. Noelle was such a glaring example of Cal Lightman's lack of good judgment. He wondered on what planet she'd ever be considered an asset to any company. Skills or no skills. Noelle Nehru was a tightly-wound coil of trouble that was destined to explode at the wrong moment.

Rader would happily bet money on her not lasting more than another month or so. If that.

"You hate that you can't get into Lightman's pants."

Noelle made a face. "You're so rude. You hide it underneath your shiny watch and your expensive suit, but Lightman's a class act next to you."

Rader yawned. Now she was just boring him. He dreaded the day that Lightman would make him work a case with her. Afraid that might take more restraint than he was capable of.

Noelle smiled. "Besides, you're wrong. Lightman wants me bad. It's just a matter of time. Kind of hard to believe that someone who can read faces like you can't see that."

Rader raised his brows. "Guess that would explain why he hired you."

Noelle took one last drag of her cigarette before she tossed it off the terrace. "What's your excuse then? Saint Foster felt sorry for you?"

Rader smiled. God, she was a handful. "Maybe they just needed someone who can read and write?"

Noelle glared at him.

_Hurt. Anger. _

_Ah, touched a nerve. That burns you. Knowing you don't have much of an education and that everyone else around here knows it. The lone drop-out in a sea of academics. _

Noelle turned on her stiletto heels and gave him the finger as she swivelled past him and made her way back inside.

"Jerk."

* * *

><p>"You reek," Gillian told him after he put an arm over her shoulders. She made a face as she slipped out of his hold. "Since when do you smoke?"<p>

"Since when do you nag?"

Foster narrowed her eyes. "According to you, all the time."

Cal noticed that she was nervous as hell, fidgeting with the zipper on her purse like a teenager out on her very first date. "What's going on, luv?" he asked her afer they entered his office and he closed the door behind them.

"I got a call half an hour ago..."

Gillian Foster wasn't always the easiest person to read but this time her emotions were written all over her face for the whole world to see. Fear. Anxiety. Excitement.

"Keisha's water broke. She's in labour."

"I see..." Cal's lips widened into a smile. "That's great. I mean, she's what a few days early? You were expecting this call any day now."

"I know..." Foster bit her lip and started pacing in tiny circles in his office.

"So what the hell are you still doing here?" Cal looked at her not understanding. "Why aren't you at the hospital?"

"This...case with the security firm. I don't want to leave you and Rader hanging. I was planning on being here at least another week."

"Screw it. Rader will jump at the chance to do it on his own," Cal told her. "He'll walk around like a peacock fanning his feathers as soon as I give him the news."

"I suppose. He would, wouldn't he?"

Cal grabbed her shoulders and forced her to stop moving. Forced her to look at him. "Christ, Gill, what's going on? This isn't about some minor case...are you having second thoughts about this?"

"No," she shook her head vehemently. "No...of course not."

"Then why are you here pacing around in my office, instead of at the hospital to welcome your daughter into the world?"

She avoided his gaze and stared into the wall behind him. "I'm scared, Cal."

"Scared of what?" he asked her, gently this time.

Her blue eyes finally met his and he noticed they were fighting back tears. "_Everything_."

"You're worried about the birth?"

She nodded. "That too. She's had a rough pregnancy...with the drug use and the withdrawals. And I'm scared of...what the effect of it all will be."

There was something else too, Cal could see it.

"And?" he prodded.

Foster exhaled. "I'm scared Keisha will change her mind."

"Can she?" Cal asked. "I thought everything was final, that she'd signed all the papers."

"Legally she has until sixty days after the baby's born to change her mind. But statistics say most birth mothers that do change their mind, they do it right after the birth. After they see the child for the first time..."

Cal scrunched his lips. He didn't even want to consider the possibility of that happening. Not after he'd seen her go through two failed adoptions already. Didn't want to think about the monumental unfairness of a world that was full of unwanted and neglected children, while his best friend kept getting denied the chance to give some lucky kid the kind of love and nurturing that others would kill for.

"Don't think about that," he told her. He probably should've mustered something more encouraging. Told her that it was all going to work out. That the chances of Keisha changing her mind were slim. But what the hell did he know? What if they weren't slim?_ Did_ most birth mothers change their mind at the last minute?

Cal wasn't American enough for that kind of syrupy pep talk.

Instead, he put his arms around her and pulled her into a hug. Felt some of the tension leave her body as she embraced him and buried her face in his shoulder.

"You're gonna be fine," he told her when she was finally ready to let go. That much was true. One thing he was certain about was her strength, and her resilience, no matter what would happen at that hospital in the next few hours.

He put his arms around her shoulders and nudged her out of his office. "Let me drive you to the hospital." She was a nervous wreck. Getting behind the wheel right now was a lousy idea.

"It's okay...I don't want to leave my car here."

"We'll take your car and I'll take a cab back."

"You don't have to do that."

"I know," he held out his hand. "Want to. Keys?"

"Cal, really..."

"Need your car keys, luv."

Gillian eyes met his again. She aimed for annoyed but it didn't last for longer than an instant. Gratitude was what he saw instead.

"Thanks."

"It's not everyday the Lightman Group gets a new family member, Foster," he told her with a grin once he held her car keys in his hands and they stepped into the elevator that would take them to the underground parking. "This is exactly the kind of occasion that calls for a chauffeur."


	37. Sophie

**XXXVII) Sophie**

"Well, hello."

She was beaming when she opened the door. Smiling and giddy, in spite of the circles that lined her eyes. Holding the cause of both happiness and exhaustion securely in her arms.

Cal Lightman let his eyes soak in his very first glimpse of Gillian's daughter. The tiny black girl with the dark, curly hair.

"Cal Lightman meet Sophie Anne Foster."

"Hiya there, Sophie Anne Foster." Cal smiled because it was impossible not to. Gillian's happiness was contagious. "Pretty name for a pretty girl."

"Come on in," Foster guided him into the living room. Her place was much smaller than his and it was the first time he's seen it less than meticulously neat and clean. There were baby toys scattered on the floor and unwashed dishes in the sink. A cup of half finished coffee sat on the dining room table and one of Alec's suit jackets was dangling haphazardly from a chair.

Even Gillian Foster had already learned that parenthood and neatness were mostly incompatible.

"Want to hold her?"

"Of course." Cal nodded as Gillian handed him the little girl, his mind going back in time to when Emily was only a few weeks old. He took the baby in his arms, cradling her with ease. He half expected her to cry, but she didn't. Instead her large, dark eyes stared at him with curiosity.

"Can I get you anything?"

"Tea would be nice. Assuming that having my partner back at the office next week is not an option, 'cause if it is..."

"Dream on, Cal. We agreed to four months." She wiped her hands on an apron she wore. "Tea is an option though."

The baby made a face when Cal rocked her. "She looks like you."

"Funny."

"No, really... that cranky, little pout she made just now, did you see that? That's classic Gillian Foster right there. That's your face if you don't get your second cup of coffee by ten in morning. And I should know, I study faces for a living." Cal lowered his head to give the baby a kiss on the nose. "Right now I'm also the only one who studies faces for a living..."

Gillian put her hands on her hips and watched them both with delight. "I'm not coming back before four months, no matter how much passive-aggressive whining you do. Not happening."

Cal grinned. "Can't blame a man for trying." He gave Sophie another kiss. "I should hate you for stealing her away from me. But it's hard when you're so bloody cute."

"You know most civilized countries offer maternity leaves up to a year long, right? Including the one you're from."

"Good thing we're in the US then." She couldn't stop smiling at the sight of the two of them together. "Hang on. Let me get my camera."

He patiently let her take half a dozen photos, marvelling that Sophie hadn't starting fussing and crying yet.

"How's everyone doing at the Group?" she asked him, after promising to e-mail him the photos and setting the camera back down.

"I fired Noelle two days ago."

Gillian couldn't hide her shock. "You did what?_"_

"She was high as a kite during an interview with a client in the Cube. Should've never let her step inside it." He winced at the recollection.

"What happened?"

"She puked all over the guy."

Gillian cringed. "Oh no..."

"Oh yes," Cal chuckled before turning serious again. "Only amusing thing about it was that Rader did this brilliant budget analysis that same morning, and it screwed the whole thing up and he had to redo it. We have to take Noelle off the payroll. Give the client a huge discount."

"I'm sorry..."

Cal shrugged his shoulders. "Shoulda seen it coming." He faced her with a lopsided smile. It was hard to be upset when you held a brand new person in your arms. "Go ahead, say it."

"Cal..."

"Really. I insist."

"Fine." Gillian hesitated. "Told you so."

"Sleeping with her probably wasn't the best idea either..."

Foster's jaw dropped. "_What_?"

"She practically threw herself at me!" Cal pointed out. Defensively. "There's only so much of that a guy can resist."

Gillian rolled her eyes. "You are unbelievable..."

"Problem was, as soon as the deed was done, Noelle figured she could get away with murder."

"Serves you right."

Cal chuckled as he hoisted the little girl higher, so that her face was level with his. She still couldn't take her eyes off him. "You see, your Mum's always right. Might as well accept that from the start so you don't have to learn the hard way like me."

"As if you're ever going to learn," Gillian sighed, as she held out her arms to take the baby from him. "Any other office news?"

He told her about Wei-Ling's crush on one of the research assistants. That she thought she was hiding it from them but of course she wasn't. Told her about the other new lab tech, who in turn had a crush on Wei-Ling. It was a minor soap opera.

Gillian giggled. It was the first Lightman Group love triangle. "Can you believe we have a company that's big enough for water cooler gossip now?"

"Remember when we used to run this thing out of my dining room? With Isabel nipping at our legs? When Zoe came home late one night and found you sleeping on my couch?" It wasn't funny then but he could laugh about it now. Could laugh about the madness of doing _everything_ themselves back then. But every time he walked into their brand new office it reminded him that it was worth it. Ten times over.

"Hmm...I don't think I remember that." She told him. "I think I blocked those days from my memory. "

"You loved those early days. Don't lie."

"As if I would ever try lying to you."

"Liar."

Gillian smirked. "I put some tea and cookies on the coffee table. Help yourself." She looked at him. "I am sorry about Noelle. I know you liked her."

Cal sat down on the couch and reached for a cookie. He didn't want to talk about Noelle Nehru. They cookies were too sweet for his taste but after eating one he helped himself to a second anyway.

"Brought you something," he told Gillian, getting up to grab the pink gift bag he'd set down near her door, before settling back down on the couch again. "A few things."

Gillian put Sophie in a playpen and joined him on the couch, reaching for a cookie herself before she opened his gift.

She pulled out the outfit he had customized for Sophie.

Gillian raised her brows as she read the inscription on the front. " _'If you think my Mum's_ _hot, wait 'til you see the guy she works with'_ " She smirked. "Really, Cal? You want me to leave the house with her wearing that?"

"Course I do. Told you I'm ready to seriously start dating. She needs to wear that when you're going for strolls in parks full of sexy mothers."

"Right..."

"Open the next one, luv."

Gillian lifted out the book he bought.

" 'Black Hair for White Dads' ?"

"That one's for Alec," he clarified.

"I figured given the 'Dads' part."

"Forget that I work with a language expert. Nothing gets by you." He ignored her look and rambled on. "Saw this thing on TV where this Dad had to figure out how to do his adopted daughter's hair. It's different, you know, black hair from...white hair."

"I noticed."

"You did?"

"But I'll be sure to make Alec read it. Tell him that braiding her hair is going to be his responsibility. Twists and all."

Cal pointed to the bag. "There's one more in there."

Gillian hoisted out the large bottle of liquor. "You got me a bottle of scotch? Or is that for Alec too?"

"Both of you. You're gonna need once she starts teething. Trust me. And feel free to give some to Sophie if you ever need to take her on a flight. Believe me, you and a whole planeload of passengers will be glad you did."

"Speaking from experience?"

"You bet."

Gillian wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a hug. "Thanks...for all of it. Most of all for stopping by." She tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "I kind of missed your company these last two weeks."

"You're saying there's no way you can stand four months without it, yeah?"

"I'm saying you'll need to visit often during those four months, seeing as I won't see you at the office." She stole a glance into the playpen before eating another cookie. "Tell me, how long does it take before you actually get time to have a meal again?"

Cal pretended to think about it. "I dunno, how old is Em now? Still hasn't happened."

"Great."

"How's Alec adjusting to fatherhood?"

"He's... amazing, Cal." She was beaming again. Still on cloud nine after two weeks. "He's so crazy about her. I mean, he used to come home and do a few hours of work every night. Not anymore. Now it's all about feeding her, going for little walks with her, bathing her...she's got him completely wrapped around her little finger."

"The man is whipped."

Gillian reached for another cookie. Some things hadn't changed. "Think you might be right."

Cal finished his tea, serious now. "How is...her health."

"We took her in for a check-up a few days ago and it's..." She paused and he read the emotions on her face. "It's really promising."

"How'd you mean?"

"I mean... we expected the worst. We knew Keisha was drinking heavily during parts of the pregnancy. She did drugs too. Other teratogens. We expected at least some foetal alcohol effects. We were even prepared for a baby with severe cognitive impairments. Foetal alcohol syndrome maybe."

Cal scrunched his lips. He remembered that conversation too. The one they had at the office a few weeks ago when the adoption had finally been sealed and he felt a bit like shaking some sense into her.

_"Do you have any idea what this entails, Gill? To raise a child with those kind of issues? We're potentially talking a life-long dependence on you. An entire life of treatment. Are you really ready for that?" _

_His usually cheerful partner had been sombre and pensive that evening. _

_"Alec and I, we've been given a lot. We're lucky...to have each other. To be healthy and financially well off. We have the chance to give something back now. If that means giving a child that's been thrown a curve ball even before it comes into this world a second chance, then yes. Giving her hope and love and opportunities she wouldn't have had otherwise? Yes, we're ready for that." _

"And?" Cal asked softly, his thoughts back in the present.

"She hasn't shown any symptoms, Cal. I mean, there'll be more tests as she's older, but so far there's every indication that she's healthy. _Really_ healthy." Gillian's eyes were moist and she wiped away a tear. "Sometimes I look at her and all I can think is that she's this miracle, who somehow defied all the odds in the world. I expected a baby full of challenges and ended up with a perfectly healthy little girl. How in the world did I get so lucky? It's like I won the lottery."

"You know..." Cal started and paused. Her gratitude left a lump in his throat and it threatened to expose his carefully cultivated lack of sentimentality. "Sophie didn't do so bad in the Mum lottery either."


	38. Daughters

**XXXVIII) Daughters **

_Lightman Group, Washington DC _

"I don't need a babysitter," Emily pointed out for the second time in the last twenty minutes.

She was lying on his leather couch, one of her skinny legs dangling over one end. She was deigning him only part of her attention, the other part taken up by the texting she was doing while talking to him.

"It's not a babysitter. It's Gillian. You're gonna hang with her and Sophie for a couple of hours before she drops you off at your Mum's work."

"Great," she sighed dramatically. "Two hours with a screaming baby. 'Cause my Dad won't trust me to be home alone for two hours."

Cal took his gaze away from the computer screen in front of him and turned it towards his daughter. "Last time we trusted you to be alone for two hours you left the house and took a bus across town to a mall."

Emily sighed again. Even more dramatically than the last one. Cal knew this one well. It was an unmistakeable macro-expression. The do-I-really-need-to-listen-to-this-lecture-again sigh. "Exactly, Dad. I went to a mall. Not a crack house. And I took the Metro, not a bus."

Cal squinted at her. _A crack house? _

Emily didn't notice.

"You said you'd stay home but you went to the mall. That's the problem here. You lied to us."

"So you're punishing me by making me be the loser who doesn't get to hang out with her friends and instead has to spend an afternoon with a screaming baby."

Cal's expression kept getting more quizzical. Her logic was making his brain hurt. As was the reminder that teenagers were really the most insufferable creatures on the planet. Even the ones that belonged to you. _Especially those ones. _

"Actually..." he corrected her. "You're not only getting away with it. You've got the good fortune to spend it with someone who's a helluva lot more patient than I am and who'll probably insist on paying for whatever you're having when you're with her. You know there's kids in some...slum right now that'd die for the afternoon that you're about to have."

"There's also kids at some mall right now, having a way better time than I'm about to have."

"Em?"

"Yeah?" she finally turned around and offered him her full attention.

"Stop this bloody nonsense."

"You treat me like I'm still ten! But I'm almost fifteen, Dad. Some girls my age are having babies already."

Cal almost choked. Where the hell did _that _come from?

"If you even _think_ about having a baby anytime soon, you're not only not seeing another mall in your future, you're not leaving the house again until you're thirty. Got that?"

Cal didn't get a reaction at all this time because they both heard his office door opening.

"Hi Gillian!" As soon as Emily saw Gillian enter with a stroller and the baby, she dropped her phone, making Cal realize it wasn't actually chained to her, and jumped off the couch to greet his partner with a hug.

"Oh my god!" she squealed. "Sophie is _so_ cute!"

Even though he could only see half of his daughter's expression from his vantage point, Cal spotted genuine happiness. She really was delighted to meet Foster's baby girl.

He shook his head in disbelief.

_What the hell happened to the whining, miserable, self-absorbed teenager I was talking to ten seconds ago? _

And to think, this gorgeous, wilful creature that he adored but no longer understood, had only just started her teenage years. It almost made him want to ask Foster if she felt like adopting another girl. Or at least borrowing his until she turned twenty.

"Can I hold her?" Emily asked.

Gillian reached into the stroller to unbundle Sophie from her winter outfit. Then she picked up her daughter and told Emily to sit on the couch before handing the baby to his daughter.

Afterwards, Gillian walked over to his desk. Cal got up and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Good to see you, luv. Thanks for taking Em off my hands for a few hours."

"I heard that," Emily piped in.

Cal eyed his partner. She looked so different from the elegant doctor he was used to working with. Stay-at-home Foster was decidedly more relaxed and casual. Hair tied up in a messy pony tail, she was wearing jeans with flat suede boots and a thick wool sweater as she leaned against his desk stifling a yawn.

Cal grinned. "Little princess over there keeping you up at night?"

She smiled back at him. "I never thought the human body could function on so little sleep." Like his daughter, Gillian only gave him part of her attention. The other half, the protective mother-lion-looking-out-for-her-cub half, was on Emily who was holding Sophie. Truth was, she didn't look so much tired as she did happy and content.

Sure she was passionate about her profession but motherhood was clearly the job that came naturally to Gillian Foster and Cal had a feeling that she'd spent most of her life looking forward to it. Although he missed her around here, he couldn't be happier that she finally got the chance.

"I saw that you put up the photo montage in the hallway," she pointed out.

"Looks good doesn't it?"

"It does. Rader had a great suggestion there," she agreed. "Except I could've done without having to look at Dick Cheney scowling at me every time I come to work."

"Wasn't a better expression of contempt to be found anywhere else."

Gillian gave him a look. "Speaking of contempt and Rader, is he going to Montreal with you tonight?"

"Dick or Jack? Mind you, Jack is a bit of a dick..."

"Cal?" Gillian glared at him and turned to Emily.

"Don't worry, she's heard worse. And Jack probably knows it."

Cal had debated it because he really could've used Rader. But then he nixed the idea after realizing it would mean spending two whole days with the guy. "No."

"Why not? Couldn't you use him on this one?"

"Aren't you on maternity leave?" he reminded her. "Besides someone needs to hold down the fort here. I'd love to discuss this further with you but I've got a flight to catch." He grabbed the leather travel bag sitting next to his desk, that had been a gift from Zoe many Christmases ago. "Zoe'll be done at around 6 o'clock at the DOJ. You can drop Em off there."

Gillian gave him a hug. "Have a safe trip." Then she grinned. "Make us lots of money so I can take some more time off."

Cal pretended he didn't hear that as he made his way over to Emily and planted a kiss on her cheek. "Behave when you're with Foster."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

"And you..." Cal ran an index finger along Sophie's cheek as she threw her arms up into the air. "Be really fussy the next couple of hours so that the word baby doesn't enter Em's vocabulary again in the next ten years."

"Cal?" Gillian was probably rolling her eyes too but if she was he didn't see it. He was already halfway out the door, leaving his ladies behind in his office.

* * *

><p><em>Later <em>

It had taken them a while to leave the Lightman Group. A while before everyone had spent the obligatory time cooing over the baby. Holding her and, in the case of Wei-Ling, taking more than a dozen photos. Even Jack Rader dropped by Cal's office and insisted on picking up the baby, and that's when Sophie's patience finally wore out and she started crying.

Gillian stayed in his office to feed and change her and now that they finally made it out the building and into a nearby coffee shop they had barely an hour left to spare before she had to drop off Emily at the Department of Justice.

Sophie was asleep in her stroller and Gillian ordered two mocha lattes with whipped cream, for her and Emily, as well as a piece of carrot cake they were sharing.

It's another thing she'd learned the last few weeks. That trying to keep to a schedule with a baby was an exercise in futility.

"Sorry it took us a while to get here," she told Emily. Cal told her that he'd been having a hard time with his daughter lately. That'd she started to rebel and lie and spend hours on the phone with boys. Things he wasn't entirely ready to deal with.

Gillian thought back to the time she'd first met Emily Lightman. It felt like a lifetime ago. They were at Cal's house, baking cookies and playing with Isabel, the little pug who'd since passed away.

The Emily sitting across from her now wasn't a carefree little girl anymore. She was on her way to becoming a beautiful young woman, one that was just as smart and opinionated as her parents.

_"Don't let Em give you any attitude tomorrow," _Cal had warned her last night over the phone. _"Even if she is pissed about missing her weekly mall date with her friends."_

"It's okay," Emily told her, while taking a bite of the carrot cake. "It was fun seeing everyone at the Group get all crazy over Sophie." She grinned. "Well, except for Jack...who was holding her 'cause he figured he should since everyone else was. It's cool how Sophie knew that and then started crying. Maybe babies are smarter than we think."

Gillian smiled. "I think it's pretty cool that you picked up on all that."

"I like how she stops crying whenever you pick her up too," Emily pointed out. "It's like she _knows_ you're her Mom. Knows that she's safe with you. That's pretty amazing since, you know...she's not really yours."

Gillian raised her brows and suddenly Emily looked horrified.

"Oh my god...I'm sorry, that's not what I meant. What a stupid thing to say! All I meant was, you know, _biologically_. I know she's yours and..."

Gillian reached across the table and put a hand on Emily's arm. "Hey, it's okay. Really, I know what you meant."

"I'm sorry," Emily still looked aghast.

"Don't be. Seriously, Em." She looked into the young woman's face and make sure she knew she had nothing to feel bad about. "I look at you...and I see so much of your Dad in you, it's a wonderful thing. I don't know if ten years from now I'll look at my daughter and something of myself or Alec in her." She shrugged her shoulders. "Who knows? Maybe I will. Maybe it's not just nature, but nurture too."

Emily smiled, relieved. "Maybe she'll like sugar as much as you do."

Gillian giggled. "I hope not."

"Did you love her right away?" Emily asked.

_You have no idea how much. _

"Yeah...I did." Gillian turned to Sophie who was asleep in the stroller, one of her tiny, fisted hands nestled against her cheek. She wondered if she'd ever get tired of looking at her when she was sleeping. Probably not anytime soon. "I don't think I could have loved her anymore if she was my own."

"She's lucky to have you."

Gillian stirred her coffee, using a spoon to scoop out of some of the whipped cream. "I'm the lucky one." Something else occurred to her then too, that in spite of Cal's warnings, Emily had been anything but difficult today. She'd been sweet and patient and happy to be around them. It made the psychologist in her wonder whether her teenage rebellion was more personal than general.

"How are things with you and your Dad?" she asked casually.

"They're good," Emily mumbled, as the stirred her coffee drink.

"You sure?"

"Are you spying for him?"

"No. Just wondering."

Emily's brows narrowed as she switched their roles and took her turn as the interrogator. "You know just by looking at me, don't you? It's creepy sometimes these skills that you and Dad have. Doesn't Alec find it crazy...that can tell all this stuff without even having to ask? I know it used to drive Mom crazy when she was with my Dad."

Gillian chuckled. "You make it sound like we have some weird superpowers."

"You do!" Emily insisted. "It's freaky."

"Truthfully?" Gillian admitted. "It was just a guess. Not something I saw in your face, or heard in your voice. I don't use these...skills, unless I need to, at work. I don't use them on my friends. Or Alec. Plus, I can't see nearly as much as your father can."

"That's probably a good thing..." Emily mumbled, eyes back on her coffee.

"Hey," Gillian made sure she caught Emily's gaze. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. And if there_ is_ something you want to tell me, it stays between us. But this alone is nice. Hanging out with you. I miss seeing you around the Lightman Group."

"It's not my Dad," Emily suddenly blurted out. "It's...my Dad being with my Mom!"

"What do you mean?"

"Mom broke up with Daniel a few weeks ago. And whenever she breaks up with a guy, she calls Dad. Then she gets this idea in her head that she still loves him. It happened last time too."

"Maybe she does?" Gillian suggested.

"No," Emily countered. "She thinks she does. And they start talking on the phone...and then sometimes Dad comes over and I _know_ they're having sex." Emily was stirring her coffee furiously now.

Gillian swallowed. Little Emily Lightman had definitely grown up.

"They think they're being so clever. They think that I have no clue!"

"Is it so bad...the idea of your Mom and Dad getting back together?"

"But that's just it!" Emily pointed out. "They're not getting back together!"

"How do you know that?"

"Because they always do this," Emily ranted. "Mom gets all nostalgic. Dad buys it. They get all friendly again and then they end up bed. Then Mom remembers all the things that drove her crazy about Dad and they start fighting again. And Dad, who's supposed to be so smart and see everything...he doesn't see this. It's like he's blind to it. Or doesn't wanna see it 'cause he still loves Mom. They drive each other nuts and I have to watch."

"Have you told your Mom how you feel?"

Emily gave her a quizzical look. One that suggested it was a ludicrous question. "No."

"Why not?"

Emily fidgeted with her over-sized Swatch. "We should get going. It's rush hour. It'll take time to get to the DOJ."

"Em?"

"Are you going to tell Dad what I told you?" Apprehension was what she saw on Emily's face now.

Gillian finished the rest of her coffee and got up. "No. I said I wouldn't and I meant it."

"Thanks," she mumbled.

"I still think that you should consider telling them though."

"Okay," she lied. "I'll think about it."

"Emily?"

"Yeah?"

"Come here." Gillian put her arms around the girl and gave her a hug, surprised at how long and how tightly Emily held on.

The irritation was almost gone from her face after she let go. Then Emily grabbed the empty plate and two forks from the table. "I'll bring these back to the counter," she offered.

Gillian watched her go before turning back to Sophie.

Her daughter was awake now, dark eyes wide open, looking up at her in curiosity. Her hands waved through the air and Gillian put her pinkie finger into one of the palms, smiling when five tiny fingers curled around it instinctively.

"Hi, sweetie," she whispered, bending down towards her. "Promise me you'll take your time growing up, okay? In exchange I'll try not to drive you too crazy."


	39. Left Behind

**XXXIX) Left Behind **

_Foster Residence, Washington DC _

Gillian barely heard the phone ring.

Might not even have picked it up if she hadn't seen the red light flashing next to the receiver. Sirens had just gone by outside, Sophie was crying and Alec was having a work conversation on his cell phone.

Still, her ears caught the sound and she picked it up.

"Hello?"

_"Is this Gillian Foster?" _

"Yes. Who is this?"

_"It's Marlene." _

"Marlene?" Gillian's attention wasn't really on the phone. Sophie was still crying and Alec was still talking. "Do I know you?"

_"I'm Keisha's Mom. I'm calling because I, I mean she...she wanted to know if the baby's okay." _

"What?" Gillian didn't understand. "I...how did you get this number?"

_"Is she okay? Her little girl?" _

Gillian didn't know what to say. "Yeah...she's good. Sophie's really good."

_"Sophie?" _

"It's what we named her. Sophie Anne."

_"She's healthy?" _

"Yeah...she is."

There was long moment of silence on the other end, making Gillian wonder if the woman was still there. "Hello?"

_"Thank you Mrs. Foster. For letting us know." _

Then Gillian heard a click and nothing else. Silence.

When she turned around she suddenly noticed that the rest of the room was silent too. That Alec had stopped talking and was now holding Sophie in his arms, who in turn had stopped crying.

"Who was that?" Alec asked her.

"She said she was Keisha's mom."

"Keisha's mother?" Alec frowned. "What did she want? And why would she have our number?"

"She just wanted to know how Sophie's doing. It was weird...that's all she asked me. Whether she was okay."

Gillian held her arms out, letting Alec know she was ready to take Sophie. She knew that he had to leave for work. Was running late already.

But Alec held on to his daughter, concern deepening the lines on his face. "What did you tell her?"

"That's she fine...and healthy."

Alec's brows narrowed, still cradling Sophie. She always stopped crying when Alec held her. At barely two months she was already Daddy's little girl. "Why would you tell her that?"

Gillian shrugged her shoulders, not quite understanding why he was anxious about this. "What was I supposed to say?'

"Nothing," he told her, finally handing over the baby. "I don't want you to talk to her again. If she calls again, hang up." He fixed his tie. "They're not supposed to contact us. Not like this. Only through the agency."

"I know..." Gillian mumbled. An uneasy feeling suddenly settled in her stomach even as she told herself it was nothing.

He lowered his head to give Sophie a kiss and then he gave Gillian one too. "Promise me you won't talk to her again?"

"Alright. I won't."

Sophie must've sensed her unease, because she started crying again as soon as Alec left.

* * *

><p><em>The next day <em>

It all happened so quickly that now, almost two hours later, it was little more than a blur in her memory.

The people that knocked on her door in the late morning. A half dozen of them.

Gillian had opened the door because she recognized Dana, the lady from the adoption agency.

_Why did I open the door? Why didn't I take you and run? I should have run away with you for three days. Just three days. Seventy-two hours. Because after that they couldn't have taken you anymore. _

_Why didn't I run? _

_Why? _

The lady from the agency was the first one to step through her doors.

Then she recognized Keisha and an older black woman. It had to be her mother, Marlene. If she'd just spoken one word Gillian could have verified it, but she didn't. Neither did Keisha who wouldn't even look her in the eye.

It was an older man with white hair who did all the talking. A lawyer.

"I'm very sorry to inform you of this, Dr. Foster, but Ms. Moore has changed her mind about the adoption and according to the legal documentation that you all signed, she's exercising her right to..."

Gillian couldn't remember the rest of what he said. All she remembered was Dana, the adoption lady reaching into the playpen where Sophie was lying. Picking up her daughter and handing her over to Keisha.

"What are you doing?" Gillian protested. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. "This is crazy, you can't just come in here, come into my home and take her like this! _You can't do this!"_

She'd tried to grab her back then. Literally.

Until another man in uniform, a cop, held her back. "Please, Dr. Foster, don't make this more difficult than it already is."

Gillian remembered looking at him in stunned disbelief. She'd starting crying then.

_More difficult? _

"Keisha, please don't do this...let's talk about this. About what's best for Sophie, please don't do this. Not like this."

Both Keisha's mother and the lady from the adoption agency had already surrounded Keisha and Sophie, covering her like a protective shield as they led her outside.

"You can't just take her like this! This is kidnapping!" She'd been almost hysterical, while at the same time the mother in her thought of all the things that had already become second nature. "What about her winter clothes? Her formula? It's almost time for Sophie to eat." She pleaded to the three people that were still standing there in her living room. The lawyer, the cop and another lady from the adoption agency, one she'd only met once or twice before. "It's a baby, for chrissakes, not a piece of furniture! She needs..." Gillian could barely talk anymore. Barely put two words together between her sobs.

Instead she ran after them, out into the cold.

"Stop this! _You can't just take her!"_

She'd grabbed a hold of Keisha's mom, yanked her away from her daughter, until she felt the police officer's hands on her shoulders, pulling her back, as the others were led into a waiting car.

Gillian fought him. Lashing out at him and hitting him with as much force as she could muster.

But he was bigger and stronger and knew exactly how to restrain her.

It was windy outside and her tears blurred her vision as she watched the car drive off with her daughter inside.

In the span of minutes, six people had entered her home and yanked out her heart. Put it in a car and drove off with it.

Gillian felt her knees buckle because she couldn't breathe anymore. Couldn't get any air into her lungs.

She wasn't sure anymore how exactly she'd gone from kneeling on the freezing concrete sidewalk, crying and hysterical, to sitting on her couch, back in her living room. Gillian vaguely remembered the same cop who'd held her back with force earlier, gently helping her back up, leading her back inside.

They were the only ones left there now. The cop. The lawyer. And one other woman from the adoption agency.

They were saying things that were supposed to comfort her. Things that barely registered. Told her they were there to answer any questions she might have.

_How is this possible? That's my question. How the hell could you do this? _

Tears were still streaming down her face. "I need to call my husband."

"We've left a message for Mr. Foster, but we'll call him again for you."

Eventually the cop and the lawyer left, leaving her with just the lady from the adoption agency, who'd offered her a sedative, as if she had a ready-made prescription for her. It was surreal. Gillian turned her down. She needed her daughter back, not a pill that would calm her down.

Gillian wanted to tell her off too and now that thought she back to it, maybe she did.

But Sophie was all she could think about then.

"They didn't take her clothes, her blankets..." she told the woman, trying to sound rational. "Or her formula. Do they have diapers for her? If they..." She kept choking on the words. "If they switch her formula she might get sick...and that purple blanket..." Her eyes drifted to the empty playpen. "She always sleeps next to it. Can you...can you please bring her those things?" She pleaded. "_Please_?"

"They're ready for the baby, Dr. Foster. They have things ready for her. She's going to be fine."

_How do you know that? You have no idea whether she's going to be fine. _

"Can you please just give Keisha Sophie's things?" It surprised her that she was capable of keeping her voice level and rational.

"I'm not able to do that, Dr. Foster. I'm so sorry."

_Don't tell me you're goddamn sorry, just do this one thing I'm asking you to do. One thing. _

In hindsight, she did tell her off. Spewed the kind of angry curse words that didn't come naturally to Gillian Foster. But she remembered it now.

Then the woman left, leaving her behind with a cup of herbal tea that had long since turned cold. Even if her hands weren't still shaking too hard to pick up the cup she wouldn't have had any. She hated it. Had it in the kitchen only for visitors and Alec.

Alec who'd been in a meeting, unreachable, when it all happened, was finally coming home.

Gillian heard the sound of keys turning in the lock.

Devastation was written all over his face. Sophie meant the world to him. Nothing had made him happier than to call himself a dad.

Seeing him broke her heart all over again. Welled up fresh tears before the other ones had dried.

"They're not getting away with this," was the first thing he said. He was shaking too. With anger. "I'm fighting this. I called our lawyer on the way here. One of his colleagues is an adoption specialist."

"It's less than sixty days...she had sixty days to change her mind. We...knew that." Even as she wanted to believe Alec that they had a chance, Gillian knew that they didn't. It's why she kept a count of the days. They'd known the rules right from the start.

"It's been two months, Gill!"

_Almost two months. Three days short of two months. _

"They can't just let us have this baby for two months and then take her away again!"

He was pacing, unable to stand still. Unable to come near her or sit down.

"There's nothing we can do." Gillian mumbled, knowing it was the truth. She'd never felt this empty before. Empty, alone and left behind. Even now when Alec was standing in the same room as her.

Couldn't remember the last time she wanted him to hold her as badly as she did now.

"So we just give up?" he asked her, running a hand through his hair. "Let them take our daughter? Just like that? Did you even try to stop them?"

Maybe she was wrong when she thought this couldn't hurt anymore than it already did.

"Of course I tried."

He was crying too now. Gillian couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him cry.

"They took our little girl, Gill. How _could _they?"

She stood up. If Alec wouldn't come to her, she'd go to him.

"It's that phone call."

"What?"

"You don't think that phone call yesterday was a coincidence, do you? They thought they left us with a sick baby and when you told them she wasn't...they wanted her back. They couldn't afford to raise a sick baby but a healthy one is different."

Gillian shook her head. "I don't think..."

He stepped back as soon as she got close to him.

"You don't know that call had anything to do with..." Her words sounded far away from her own ears and for a second she thought the whole room was spinning around her. Gillian wanted the floor to open up. To swallow her whole. And after that she wanted to wake up and find out that all of this was just a dream.

"All you had to do was lie."

"Alec?"

"You couldn't have thought to tell just one fucking lie for once in your goddamn life?" he yelled. "Couldn't see through what they were doing? No...not you and your so-called expertise on human behaviour, you and all your fancy degrees."

"I didn't think..."

Hurt and accusation were the only things she saw on his face. "How can you be_ so_ naive?"

_It's my fault. Just say it. _

"Alec, stop..." She moved to put her arms around him.

He wanted to let her. Wanted comfort and escape as much as she did. She could see it.

He wiped away his tears and grabbed his coat. The coat he'd only just taken off. "I can't, Gill. I'm sorry. Not now."

He left before she had the chance to say anything else.

Alec Foster would get his comfort elsewhere tonight. Probably in the form of something white and expensive and illegal.

Gillian didn't care anymore.

She took a handful of shaky steps towards the empty playpen in the middle of the living room. She grabbed the purple blanket from it and sat down to the floor. Then she buried her face in the blanket and soaked in the still-lingering scent of her daughter.


	40. A Walk in the Dark

**XL) A Walk in the Dark **

_Lightman Group Offices, Washington DC _

Cal noticed that her office door was slightly open when he walked down the hallway at the Lightman Group.

He figured someone must have gone inside to retrieve one of Foster's text books. Must have forgotten to shut the door when they went back outside.

Normally he would have just closed it shut, but something propelled him to poke his head inside, to make sure there was no one there.

He was shocked to see there was someone there.

It was Foster, sitting at her desk. Foster, fully dressed in a scarf and trench coat, staring into space, barely registering his presence in the room.

"Foster?"

Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. He didn't need more than one look at her face to know that.

He walked up to her and put a hand on her shoulder. She didn't answer. "What are you doing here, luv?"

She didn't even look at him. "Nothing."

Cal crouched down next to her. Swivelling her office chair in his direction, forcing her to face him, while his hands rested on her knees. "What's wrong?"

Tears started falling before she could speak.

"Gillian," he prodded. Gently. "Talk to me."

"They took her."

"Took who?"

"My little girl...Sophie. They took her."

_Hell, no. _Cal felt a tightening in his gut. _Not that. Anything but that. Because that would be a whole other level of unfair. _"Who took her?" he managed to ask.

She made no effort to wipe away her tears. "Keisha, she...she wanted her back."

"What?" Cal didn't understand. "How's that possible? It's been two months? How can she get her back?"

"Fifty-seven days."

"What?" Cal still didn't understand.

"She had sixty days to change her mind. It was day fifty-seven yesterday."

_Oh no. _

The things he was seeing on her face now were breaking his heart.

"I miss her, Cal. I can't stop thinking about her. What if she's cold or hungry? Is she eating? Is she okay...?" She was sobbing now, her arms wrapped around herself, as if she were cold too. In spite of the heat in the office and the coat she wore. Or maybe she did it just to stop from shaking. "It hurts to miss her so much."

Cal swallowed. It hurt him too. To see her like this. It hurt to know that there was nothing he could do. He couldn't even grasp that they could really do it. Could really take that little girl away from her.

And suddenly he wondered why she was here at all. Sitting here in her office alone. Away from home and her husband. Where Cal had almost walked by and missed her.

Cal moved from his squat and kneeled down next to her, taking her hands in his, unwrapping her arms. "What are you doing here, luv? Where's Alec?"

She eased out of his grasp, wiped away her tears with the back of her hands. "I don't know."

"You don't know where he is?"

She shook her head. He caught something else on her face, other than hurt and despair but he couldn't quite make out what it was.

"I want her back, Cal." She started crying again. "I'd do anything to have my baby back. What if she's crying and Keisha doesn't know how to soothe her? What if..."

"Gill, stop..." Cal stood up when she did and pulled her towards him and wrapped his arms around her. Holding onto her and letting her cry until she was done. Until she finally stepped back, away from him, with red, swollen eyes and a world of hurt written all over her face.

"I'm sorry..." she said softly, her voice hoarse.

"Let me drive you home," he offered.

"No..."

Cal tried to read her again. Failed a second time.

"It's okay," she told him, finally finding her voice again, nodding and trying to convince herself. "I'll be okay." She fastened the belt on her trench coat. "I just need some air."

Cal observed her. "Alright. Let's go outside. Walk for a bit."

"Yeah..." she agreed, but she wasn't really paying attention to him anymore. Was staring into the wall behind him again.

* * *

><p><em>Later<em>

They walked for well over an hour and barely said more than a dozen words. Across town towards the George Washington University campus where he'd tried in vain to push her into a into a student cafe. To buy them both something warm to drink because he was freezing. He could barely feel his fingers anymore.

But Foster protested when she saw the throng of students lined up inside. "I don't want to go inside. You go. I'm fine."

She wasn't anywhere near fine and he didn't go without her. Gillian kept walking, oblivious to both his reasoning and to the increasing cold. It was dark outside now and a damp fog was starting to blanket the city.

He walked alongside her, heading south on 21st street, past the Department of State until they crossed Constitution Avenue and left the city behind, heading towards the vast green space that housed the country's most iconic monuments.

Cal couldn't feel his toes or his fingers anymore. It was a partial blessing because it meant he couldn't feel the blisters his dress shoes were giving him anymore either. Foster had to be sore and freezing too. The coat she wore was thinner than his wool jacket and the heels on her boots were too high for two hour walks. But she kept going. Past the illuminated war memorials. Cal could never quite keep them straight. Was it women or veterans for the Vietnam war? The Korean one he knew. He spotted the crowds around that one, as they walked past the base of the Lincoln Memorial. That was the most popular one. Even now, on this dark, cold winter evening there were still throngs of people at the base of its steps. But they started to thin out after they passed the Korean War Memorial.

Cal shivered as they walked past the statues of men wearing military capes. The illumination from the ground made them looked like metallic ghosts walking alongside them in patches of knee-high grass. Cal half expected one of the statues to link arms with them on their morose stroll through the cold and the thickening fog.

He tugged at Foster's arm. "Let's go back, Gill. Nothing else further down but barren monuments."

She shook her head. "You go. I want to stay out here."

Her cheeks were red from the cold, a perfect match for her red eyes.

"I'm not gonna leave you here." He grabbed her arm, gently at first then with more force. "Come on, let's go back. We're both frozen." He rubbed one of her ice-cold hands between his own but she squirmed out of his hold. Maybe she craved the numbness of the cold.

She kept walking too, but Cal grabbed her again. "For Christ sake, Gill. You're not thinking straight right now."

She turned around to face him and he saw that she was crying again. "I don't need you to follow me around like a damn puppy and I don't need your pity, Cal."

He let go of her again. Threw his hands up into the air. "No pity from me, luv. Never. But I'm not leaving."

"I'm not going to jump into the Potomac. Promise you."

"Still not leaving."

"Fine." She wiped away an angry tear, shivering now that they stood still. "Do you what you want, Cal. You always do."

He followed her as the crowds thinned out. By the time they made their way down to the Tidal Basin, an icy wind was coming off the water and not a soul was at the massive, domed Jefferson Memorial. It was there that whatever adrenaline had kept her going this far, finally ran out. Foster sat down on the marble steps, below the massive Corinthian columns , staring into the black pool of water in front of them. Thoroughly exhausted.

Cal groaned as he sat down next to her. It was like sitting on a ice cube and the wind blew his hair across his forehead. For a moment he could feel the blisters on his feet again.

He took her hands in his once more and rubbed them. They were as cold as his. For a while he sat there, next to her, waiting for her to take the lead. When she didn't in spite of the fact that they both started shivering he asked her for her phone.

Gillian gave it to him wordlessly, not caring why he wanted it.

He scrolled down her list of contacts, not surprised to see Alec at the very top. With stiff, ungainly fingers he held onto her cell phone and dialled his number as the wind whistled past his frozen ears.

There was no answer, so he dialled a second time. Leaving a message this time. "Alec, this is Cal. I need you to pick up your wife. Call me back."

Until Foster turned to face him. "He's not going to answer."

"Why not?"

Gillian shrugged her shoulders. She knew why but she wasn't going to tell him.

It was so cold he couldn't stand it anymore. The chill had crept through his clothes and through his skin right into his bones. Cal stood up and extended his arm to Gillian, pulling her up when she didn't accept his offer.

"We have to get inside," he told her. "I'm so damn cold, I can't feel anything anymore."

"I know..."

He draped an arm around her and made her walk away from the water, away from the giant looming monument.

"I don't want to go home."

Cal looked at her and it broke his heart all over again.

"Alright. We'll go to my place."

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Residence<em>

Cal Lightman stood in the kitchen and poured the warm milk into the cup, stirring it so the chocolate syrup could mix into it thoroughly before adding two ounces of brandy. Then he reached into the fridge, grabbed the cylinder of whipped cream and added a couple of rings on top. He wasn't some fancy coffee shop barista, wasn't even sure whether it would taste any good, but he figured the combination was a Gillian Foster kind of beverage. The adult version of what he might've made for Emily had she come home after having the shittiest day in the world.

He took it out to the living room where Foster sat on his couch, legs curled up underneath a thick wool blanket. He handed it to her.

Then he went back to the kitchen to grab his tea with milk, before joining her on the couch, lifting up the blanket and throwing it over his own legs. He still couldn't get warm even though he'd turned on the heat as well as the fireplace.

He watched her drink some of his concoction.

"How is it?"

"It's nice. Thanks."

He allowed himself a pleased little smile. Who else knew her as well as he did?

"Cal..."

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry. Sorry...for dragging you around the entire city in the middle of winter."

He took some tentative sips of his tea. It was boiling hot. The way it should be. "Don't be. Just think, if we both catch pneumonia at the same time, Rader gets to run the place. Might be the best thing that ever happened to the Lightman Group."

Even she managed an inkling of a smile this time.

He set down his tea. "I'm sorry about Sophie." It wasn't until now that he realized that he hadn't said it yet. "But you...you're one of the strongest people I know. You're gonna be okay, you know that right?"

"I know." She nodded and he saw the tears welling up in her eyes again. "I'm just tired of crying. I want it to stop hurting."

"I know. It's not gonna happen today or tomorrow. But it will pass and you are gonna be okay. As long as I'm around I'll make sure of it."

This time she was the one who reached across for his hand. Wordlessly. Holding on to it tightly.

Her gratitude got to him. Put a small lump in his throat.

Cal grabbed the remote with his free hand and surfed the channels until he got to a sports network and found a basketball game, leaving it there, knowing she loved the sport. It would give her something to focus on. So he sat and watched it with her in silence even though he had no clue what was going on aside from the fact that they had to get the ball through the hoops and sometimes they'd get more points for doing it than others.

Gillian didn't last long. After finishing his drink, she fell asleep, well before the game ended. Cal turned down the volume completely but left the TV on, on that channel. In case she woke up again and needed a distraction.

Cal wasn't surprised that she didn't last long. He doubted she'd seen much food or sleep the last 24 hours. He draped the rest of the blanket over her and grazed the side of her cheek with the back of his hand. It radiated warmth. That didn't surprise him either. She was tough, but still, he'd keep an eye on her tonight.

Cal took a hot shower before coming back downstairs to see Foster was still asleep.

He rummaged through her purse to look up Alec's number, writing it down and programming it into his own phone so he wouldn't have to keep borrowing hers.

Dialling his number a third time tonight, wondering if the plonker might pick up if he saw that the call wasn't coming from his wife.

He didn't. It went straight to voice mail again.

Cal bit his tongue, forced himself to reign back the all things he really wanted to say and to keep it brief.

"It's Lightman. You're wife's sleeping on my couch tonight. Just in case you wondered where she was. Don't bother showing up here tonight but you might want to pick her up in the morning."

_"You fucking wanker," _ he wanted to add. But didn't.

Not this time.


	41. Lost

**XLI ) Lost**

_Lightman Group, Washington DC _

Cal Lightman winced when he saw Jack Rader walk through the doors of his office.

It was almost seven o'clock at night and all he wanted was to get out of here. Not to have to grudgingly acknowledge one more brilliant thing that Rader had done for the Lightman Group.

He'd ask to have his name on the door soon, Cal knew it. It was only a matter of time for Rader.

But he didn't want to think about that right now either. What he wanted was to get a hold of Zoe. Everything had gone so well with them lately that Cal was starting to think they stood a chance again, until that argument they had last night, that made her storm out of his house before she even touched the chicken tikka he'd made just for her.

Rader sat down across from him and Cal instantly spotted the tells for irritation, in spite of the pleasant mask he wore.

"Look, I don't want you to take what I'm gonna say the wrong way..." Rader started.

"Anyone who starts a sentence with that disclaimer is most definitely going to say something that I'll take the wrong way," Cal shot back. He had a low tolerance for pretence when it came to most people, but most especially when it came to Rader.

"I don't think Gillian's ready to be back at work," Jack told him, unflustered by the admonition.

Cal had to give him that much. Rader wasn't easily intimidated. Maybe Foster was right, maybe they really were more alike than Cal would ever care to admit.

He didn't say anything in response, waiting for Rader to go on.

"Don't get me wrong," Jack added. "I have nothing but the utmost respect for Gillian. She's amazing at what she does and I feel terrible for what happened with her daughter."

_But. _

Cal waited for it.

"But these past two weeks..." Jack let out a sigh for dramatic effect. "The Coleman case? We were late for two meetings because she wrote down the wrong address. Then she missed several deception tells during an interview in the Cube...if I hadn't gone over the video feed afterward, he'd have gotten away with fudging the company ledgers 'cause Gillian couldn't see he was lying." He exhaled again. "And then today..."

Cal already knew what he was going to say next, because he'd already gotten the call from the FBI.

"...we missed the meeting with the FBI. Missed it. Completely. Because Gillian entered it into the agenda on the wrong date."

"Why is everything Foster's responsibility when you two are on a case together?"

"Not everything," Rader replied. "Just her half. Or as is the case lately, her third."

Cal pursed his lips. "You know she just lost her baby daughter, yeah? Maybe we can give her a break for a bit?"

"I'm not trying to be an insensitive jerk here," Rader went on. "I feel for Gillian. I really do. Everyone here does. It's obvious that everyone at this office cares for her yet at the same time we're worried about her. She's not herself."

It was Cal's turn to sigh now. Rader was laying it on way too thick. And he was just waiting for another "but".

"Right now, she's in no frame of mind to be here. I think it'd be in all our best interests, including Gillian's for her to take a break from work. Because as it stands she's a liability for this business."

That one grated on him a little. The notion that Rader knew better than Foster what was best for the company that the two of them had built from scratch.

Jack Rader fastened his tie. "I'm not going behind her back. I'd say everything I told you to her face..."

"Did you?" Cal prompted.

"Did I what?"

"Say any of this to her face?"

"Not yet..."

"So you are going behind her back. At least man up about that."

"You know..."

Cal could see that Rader was biting back his irritation now. Didn't entirely blame him for it.

"I only want what's best for this company. You might not like me, but you know that's the truth."

Lightman pursed his lips again. It was true. On both counts. Most employers would probably kill to have an overachieving workaholic like Rader on their payroll. Whereas it took effort for Cal to muster a professional response to his little rant.

"Appreciate your concern, Jack."

"Do you?"

"Yeah..." he managed with the requisite amount of sincerity. He was a good liar after all. "I do."

"Will you do something about it?"

_No. Not really. _

"I'll talk to Foster."

Satisfied that his office visit was justified, Rader nodded. "Good."

He left without a word and Cal too couldn't stand the thought of sitting at his desk for one more minute. Putting the finishing touches on the deception training manual for the TSA would have to wait until morning.

He waited until Jack was out of sight before he left his office and turned off the lights behind him, noticing then that the light was still on in Foster's office too.

Rader was right. She shouldn't be here. It was an understatement to say that her mind wasn't on the job and missing the FBI wasn't just a minor blunder but a major screw up that could cost them a lucrative contract. One that Rader had spent days working on.

Even so, Cal didn't know what the hell he was supposed to do about it all. Chew out his partner? Try and help her, in spite of the fact that she shut him down the second he tried? In spite of the fact that he really needed to get home to try and straighten things out with Zoe? Because he really, really didn't want to screw up this second chance with her?

He opened the door to her office a little wider and stepped inside, to see Foster doing something on the computer.

"Hey..."

"Hi, Cal." Her voice was still hoarse thanks to the cold she brought to work a week ago and hadn't quite gotten over yet.

"Thought we didn't have to stay late anymore now that we have a dozen lab rats doing the menial stuff for us."

She raised her eyes in his direction, her desk lamp highlighting the bags under her eyes. "I'm sorry about the FBI meeting," she told him.

Cal cringed. He wasn't even going to bring it up. But now that she did the cat was out of the bag.

He sat down across from her, slouching. "It's not like you...to make a mistake like that. To mess up the dates like that."

"I know," she agreed.

"If you're not ready to be here, you can take more time off. As much time as you need."

"I made a mistake, Cal. I'm human. It happens. It might even happen again. Do I suggest you take time off every time you make a mistake?"

Cal bit his tongue. That kind of snippy defensiveness wasn't like Foster either.

He leaned in towards her, still hopeful that one day soon he might get a little honesty from her. "You okay, Gill?"

"Yeah. I'm fine."

_Why do I bother? _

She coughed and reached for a tissue on her desk. "I'll make sure we don't miss another meeting."

_I don't give a damn about the meeting. _

The look she gave him now told him the conversation was over.

"Alright, luv." He pushed his chair back. If she wasn't going to give him an inch there wasn't anything else he could do. "I'm heading home. See you tomorrow."

Her attention was already back on the computer screen. "'Night, Cal."

* * *

><p><em>Later<em>

It was nearly nine o'clock at night when she finally got to her car in the near-empty garage.

Gillian yawned and grabbed her cell phone before turning the engine on, dialling his number, mildly surprised that he picked up. "It's me. Are you home?"

_"Not yet." _

"When are you getting home?"

_"Not sure. There's a dinner meeting at the Oval Room tonight. Might run late." _

Funny how he never had dinner meetings in the two months after Sophie was born and now he had one nearly every night.

_I think you forget sometimes that I spot liars for a living. Especially over the phone where all I can do is concentrate on your vocal inflections. _

"Can you cut out before the others? We need to talk, Alec."

She waited several long seconds before he responded.

_"Not tonight, Gill. This one's important." _

_More important than your marriage. _

"Tomorrow then. We can't go on like this."

_"Look, I gotta go. I'll see you later." _

Gillian bit her lip and ended the call without a good-bye. She sat in the car and stared out into the empty garage, debating whether to go home. She was tired and in desperate need of a good night's sleep. Not that going home would guarantee that.

Her sleep was restless and fitful lately. She'd wait up for Alec who'd stumble in at the most ungodly hours and when he did get into bed next to her, he'd toss and turn as much as she did.

She drove out of the garage and turned left instead of right, deciding that if her husband couldn't bother to come home, she didn't want to be there either.

Nothing about their house felt like a home these days.

* * *

><p><em>Later<em>

She drove in a direction she hardly went. South-east out of the city, towards the Bay. The traffic was still heavy on her way out but now, with the city lights dimming behind her, long past Andrews Air Force Base, there were only a handful of other cars on the road.

It was snowing and the road conditions worsened as the traffic thinned. She couldn't go nearly as fast as she wanted to.

Less than two hours later and still heading south, she told herself to stop. Pull over into a motel and give in to the need for sleep. That turning around and driving back for two hours was even crazier than having come this far.

She had no destination and no idea where she was headed, but the longer she drove the more she needed to get away. As far away as possible.

Away from the emptiness that was started to seep into her bones. Away from the business that she couldn't focus on no matter how hard she tried. A business where everyone was handling her with kid gloves lately, thinking she didn't notice. Away from a husband who didn't want to come home anymore and didn't touch her when he did. Away from a house where everything reminded her of the little girl she lost. Away from the guilt that threatened to swallow her every time she heard the phone ring.

No matter how fast or how long she drove, it terrified her to think that it wouldn't be enough. That she couldn't get far enough. It felt like she was suffocating and couldn't get enough air into her lungs.

Gillian pressed down on the gas pedal and drove a little faster, rolling down her window at the same time, shivering when the ice cold air hit the side of her face along with a couple of snowflakes.

A few minutes later she saw red, flashing sirens in her rear view mirror. A cop car.

She didn't realize until he was much closer that he was trailing her. Signalling for her to pull over.

Gillian's first instinct was to step on the brake, signal and do just that. That was what Gillian Foster did. She followed the rules. Believed in the rules. So much so that she didn't even jaywalk. She'd never gotten a traffic ticket in her entire life.

But tonight she didn't care about the rules. All she cared about was getting away and she wasn't going to let a cop car stop her.

Instead of pulling over, she pressed her foot down hard on the gas pedal.


	42. Drawing the Line

**XLII) Drawing the Line**

_Lightman Group, Washington DC_

He was early because he couldn't sleep last night. Because he'd tossed and turned trying in vain to make some sort of sense of Zoe's decision to break things off again. _"This isn't_ _going to work,"_ was her main reason. How the hell could she be so sure unless they tried?

The sun was only just rising when Cal Lightman walked through the hallway. Its first rays were starting to slice through the huge windows, drowning the long corridor in a milky morning light.

He sauntered into the staff lounge to make himself a tea, not expecting to see Foster there ahead of him.

She was always early, but just for once he thought he might have beaten her to punch.

"Do you sleep here?" he asked before she saw him enter the room.

He startled her and she nearly dropped the bag of coffee she was holding in her hands, about to pour it into the machine.

"Cal..." she mumbled at once annoyed and relieved that it was him.

He did a double take when she turned to face him and saw a bandage on one the side of her face, covering her left temple. It looked like a giant band-aid. Cal stepped into her personal space and gingerly ran his index finger along its edges, catching the slight purplish colour beneath it now that he was close enough. God, she looked awful. He almost wanted to send her home.

"What happened?"

"Ran into a cabinet last night," she answered, wavering before meeting his eyes to gauge his reaction. Trying to force a lop-sided smile. "Freak accident."

She was lying so badly it almost made him wince. Made him wonder if she wanted him to yank the truth out of her. "Ah, yeah?" He paused, letting her know wasn't buying it. "Sure that's what it was?"

"Yes," she said icily, taking a step back, moving herself out of his space, away from his probing touch. "I'm sure."

He thought back to that cold night a couple of weeks ago. When she'd dragged him around half of DC because she couldn't face the thought of going home. His next thoughts sent a chill up a spine. His voice was low when he tried to put into words a question that he didn't know how to ask. Hadn't ever planned on asking.

"Did Alec...?"

Her brows narrowed, not understanding at first and then her eyes widened in shock when she did.

"No...no, he'd never..."

She was as appalled at the idea as he was. Cal could see it because he was reading her unapologetically now. Her reaction relieved him.

_'Cause I swear to god, Alec, if I ever thought you did, I'll make you wish you hadn't. _

Cal nodded. "Alright."

"It was a stupid accident," she repeated. "That's all."

She couldn't have drawn the line more forcefully if she'd whipped out a knife and etched it into the ground.

_Got it, Gill. Don't need a sledgehammer. _

_"_Careful bumping your head like that after you've already had a concussion. A couple more times and you'll inch into brain damage territory."

"I'm not a boxer, Cal."

Cal mustered a smirk. "Just sayin' take care of yourself."

She must've heard the concern in his voice. Heard that it was genuine and not the least bit threatening, even though he was bothered that she wouldn't tell him the truth. Even though he was dying to know what really happened.

Her expression softened. "I'm okay. Really."

"Alright, luv." He backed off, as he always did these days when she drew the line. Even if it left a bitter taste in his mouth. Even if he was well aware that nearly everything she told him lately was a lie. Even though every time he looked at her he saw guilt and regret on her face and couldn't for the life of him figure out where those emotions were coming from.

"Are _you_ okay?"

Cal was about to say yes, as robotically as she always did. Then he changed his mind. It was one more thing he was missing lately. Being able to talk to her the way he used to.

"Not really."

"What's wrong?" He saw compassion in her bruised face and for the first time in a long time he thought he caught a glimpse of the Gillian he used to know so well. Even as the irony of her asking him what was wrong didn't escape him.

"Zoe broke things off again last night."

He felt her hand on his arm. Typical Foster. "I'm sorry."

"Thought this time we had a chance to make it work again," he confessed. "But then she decided it wouldn't. We had _one_ bloody argument, Gill. One argument and Zoe said it was a sign that we were back at square one, fighting all the time. That we really weren't good for each other and needed to let it go." Cal sighed. Zoe said other things too. Things that hurt him even more than that accusation. That them being together would damage Emily because their daughter deserved to live in a stable household. One without constant fights between her parents.

Maybe that one hurt the most because it was the truth.

"Saddest thing about it all is that she's probably right. It wasn't gonna work. No matter how much I wanted it."

"Things can work out if both people want it," she reminded him. "Don't let her blame you for something she wasn't ready to work for."

Cal didn't say anything. Maybe she was right. Maybe she wasn't. Either way her response this time was Foster the therapist. The one who always found the right words. He wondered if she ever saved some of that wisdom and compassion for herself.

The tin of sugar in their pantry was empty and Gillian reached up into the cabinet to grab a new container. Cal saw her wince at the effort before reaching up to grab it for her.

Pain. That was the only thing he caught on her face right now.

"Did you run your shoulder into a cabinet last night too?" he asked, handing her the sugar.

Gillian poured some of it into her coffee, avoiding both his question and his glare while she did.

Cal didn't budge and finally she turned around to look at him icily. Whatever intimacy they'd regained in the last few minutes long gone again.

"Just _don't_, okay?"

Then she took her coffee and left the staff lounge without another word.

It made him want to kick something. His partner's life was a hot mess. How the hell were they supposed to run a business together like this? Half the time he wanted to yell at her to come clean and the other half he just wanted her to stop hurting.

One thing was certain; losing her daughter was just the tip of the iceberg.

* * *

><p><em>Two weeks later<em>

It was a conversation he had with Jack Rader yesterday that prompted him to do what he was doing now.

Jack Rader who'd paid him another visit after hours and questioned why no one said anything about Gillian's car being in the shop for two weeks straight. He'd also asked him whether he'd ever had that talk with Foster.

Cal had almost told him to piss off. After all it was his name on the door. Not Rader's. He wasn't about to start a trend of having to answer to his employees. But then the guy had just landed them another lucrative contract. And, in fairness, he had every right to be angry and concerned.

Cal let the phone ring now, hoping he still had the right number. Todd Lehrer of the DC Police. Cal had worked with him on a lengthy contract case a lifetime ago, when he first came to the US. Lehrer was a detective then but last time Cal checked he'd made lieutenant. He did call to congratulate him, but hadn't spoken to him since.

_" Lightman! How the hell have you been? Heard you're a big shot now. Have your own corporate headquarters." _

"Hard work pays off."

_"Being a genius helps." _

"I need a favour, Todd." He liked the guy, but he wasn't in the mood for small talk. He never was.

_"What is it?" _

"There's a license plate that I need you to run for me."

_"What's the number?" _

Cal gave it to him. Todd Lehrer owed him bigger favours than running a license plate but for now he'd cash in on this one. "How long will it take?"

_"Got a meeting in ten minutes. I'll do it after I'm done. Get back to you in less than two hours." _

"Thanks."

_"Anytime, Lightman."_

He ended the call and stared out his office window, secretly hoping that his fishing expedition wouldn't yield anything.

He was back in his office two hours later when Lehrer called again.

_"You didn't mention the plate belongs to someone who works with you." _

"Gillian Foster," Cal admitted. "She's my partner at the Group."

_"She was in helluva a lot of trouble a couple of weeks ago. Tried to outrun a state trooper during a snow storm in Virginia. She lost control of the car. It flipped over and she landed in a ditch. Totalled the car and got herself a reckless driving charge." _

Cal swallowed, feeling slightly sick and thoroughly shocked.

_"It's a bit of a miracle that she walked away with a few bruises and scratches. Also a bit of miracle she didn't get slapped with a bigger charge. They did arrest her but apparently her husband showed up at the station and...between you and me, just from looking at the report, I get the feeling that someone pulled some strings." _

_Alec Foster and his government connections, _Cal thought.

"Thanks for doing this," was what he said.

_"It'll probably take another couple of favours 'til we're even." _

Cal chuckled. "Fine by me."

_"You might wanna keep an eye on your partner." _

"Right."

They exchanged a few more words and then Cal hung up wearily, plopping his feet on his desk as he rubbed his temple. He didn't get headaches often but he was getting one now. It occurred to him then, how much of his lack of stress at work coincided with being able to count on Foster. Something he hadn't been able to do for some time now.

_You flipped your car and landed in a ditch after trying to lose a cop car and didn't think to tell me? You just hoped I'd never find out?_

Foster always kept it close to vest. Cal had no problem with that. And it's not like he believed her lie to begin with. But back then his imagination conjured up a combination of alcohol, high heels and a slippery sidewalks. Not a high speed car chase involving a police cruiser.

_What in the world is going on with you? _

"Lightman?" It was Rader again, halfway inside his office. "Mind if I come in?" He always asked for permission after the fact.

"If you come in any further you'll be sitting on my desk."

Rader was standing across from him, visibly furious, making no attempt to hide his anger with the practised glibness that Cal was so used to.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

"You wanna be a little more specific?" Cal questioned. "Not psychic yet."

"I spend a week making amends with the FBI and then you decide to send Foster to meet with them today?"

"Why not?" Cal shrugged. "I had a FEMA case here at the office and you were in Virginia with that...millionaire investor."

Cal hadn't hesitated to send Foster to the FBI because no matter how unfocused she was lately, she was still good with people. If anything at the company required people skills, he'd give the task to Foster. Foster could calm down a pissed off client better than anyone else in the building. Her skills in that department were a sure thing. Even now. Plus the bruise on her face was nearly gone. He no longer had to find ways to confine her to tasks within the office.

It was the right decision. Cal had been sure of it.

Until now.

"I talked to her afterwards, she said it went well."

Rader was pacing in front of his desk now. "Did she also tell you she was twenty minutes late? That she took a cab and got a brand new driver who didn't have a fucking clue that there was construction on 12th? Got stuck in traffic for half an hour? Explain to me again how her car can be in the shop for two weeks? Did she ship it back to Korea to get it fixed? Do we not have rental cars in DC anymore?"

Cal had to fight back his shock. He wanted to throttle Foster.

_How could you not tell me any of that? _

They'd lose the FBI contract for sure now.

Rader was seething. "I can't work like this. I can't work my ass off and then see it go down the drain because of infantile screw ups."

Cal exhaled. "I'll fix it."

"I don't think you know _how_ to fix it," Rader shot back.

_Cocky bastard. _

"Ah yeah?" Cal replied, calmly. "Bet you have suggestions for me."

"I do actually. Force her to take a leave of absence. Until you do, I'm out."

Cal raised his brows. There was cocky and then there was cocky. "Pardon me?"

"Either make her take a leave or give me full control over all our cases. This is my reputation on the line here, Lightman. If you can't do that...I can't work here any longer."

Funny how Rader had the ability to make him forget how pissed he was with Foster.

He knew he should probably have given this some serious thought.

But he didn't.

"Fine then," Cal answered. "Lemme save you the trouble. You're fired."

His words elicited one of Cal's favourite emotions. Genuine surprise.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Rader stopped pacing and stared at Lightman in shock. "I know good business acumen isn't your strong suit, but even you can't be this self-destructive."

Cal put his feet up on his desk. "Good to know I can still surprise you."

"You're making a big mistake."

"Wouldn't be the first."

"You're serious?"

"If you can't see that, you're only reinforcing my decision."

"You think this is funny?"

He didn't actually. Nothing about any of this was the least bit amusing to him. Funny how Rader didn't catch that either.

"You'll get a fair severance and a reference if you want it."

Rader was fuming. "And you're gonna get a competitor who just might put you out of business! If you don't do it yourself first."

It was the last thing he said before he turned around and stormed out of his office, much like he'd stormed into it only minutes earlier.

Cal went back to massaging his temple in the silence of his office.

_What a mess. _

He'd put it off for far too long. Put it off because he'd been too preoccupied with his own chaotic personal life and because he kept hoping that, given time, the problem would fix itself. But clearly that had been a mistake and he couldn't put it off anymore. What he needed to do now was long overdue.

It was time to confront his partner and make her face the truth.


	43. Crossing the Line

**A/N: **You know your story's getting too long when you have to look up the Roman numerals for your chapter numbers! In other words, many thanks to those still reading and sticking with it and I promise, the end is in sight! (One more story arc after this one...and of course the intro of our favourite social psych nerd, Eli Loker!)

Special thanks to SassyCop who kindly took the time and let me pick her brain (for this chapter and the next one!) about DC & Virginia traffic laws. :)

* * *

><p><strong>XLIII) Crossing the Line <strong>

_Washington DC_

Alec Foster signed the paper in the law office and pushed it back to his old colleague.

"I appreciate you taking care of this," Alec told him. That was an understatement. He didn't want to think of what the repercussions might have been if the department of state had found out about Gillian's joyride in the middle of the night.

"Anytime," he told him.

Alec leaned back in his chair. "If word got out..."

"It won't," Les Giardino assured him. His old college buddy had become one of the most successful defense lawyers in town. Not that one would know it from talking to him. He was relaxed and easy-going. A genuine good guy, in every sense of the word.

He dressed casually and nothing adorned his giant Oakwood desk aside from a family photo of his wife, daughter and toddler twin boys.

"It means a lot to us," Alec repeated.

"Hey..." his friend cut him off. "Stop that. Remember back in the old days, we swore to each other we'd do exactly this? Help each other out when we needed it? I said I'd get you of jail, Sherine would patch us up, you'd get us Inaugural ball invites and Gill was gonna be our shrink when we all had that mid-life crisis."

Alec exhaled. For a moment his memory went back to their college days. To the late evenings they spent drinking cheap wine in student bars and talking about how they'd change the world, the four of them. Now they barely saw each other anymore. They were much too busy for it. Or he was anyway.

"Besides, this was a piece of cake, Alec," Les told him. "Gill had no priors. Not so much as a parking ticket. She wasn't intoxicated and no one was hurt. Wish all my cases were this easy. The license suspension's already been revoked. I'm surprised it happened in the first place. It's not usual."

"Okay...I'm glad."

"Is she okay?"

"Huh?"

"Gillian? Is she alright?"

"Yeah...yeah, she's fine. Couple of scratches, that's all. Why?"

"I met the cop who followed her car," Les told him. "He said it was amazing she wasn't hurt worse. That had her car landed a few more inches into the oncoming lane, she would've hit a tractor-trailer coming from the other direction. That could've killed her on impact." Les made a face that suggested he couldn't fathom it. "Thank god her car landed where it did."

Alec swallowed with difficulty. His mouth was dry all of sudden. That was the first he heard of it.

"You must be so relieved. Can't imagine if anything ever happened to Sherine. I'd go crazy."

"Yeah..." Alec nodded. Dizziness assaulted him out of nowhere. Made him want to flee the room. He held out his hand to his old friend. "Look, I have to go. Thanks again."

Les looked at him strangely, sensing something was off. Getting up to shake his hand firmly. "Like I said, anytime. Please give Gill my best."

"Will do."

Alec's knees were shaking by the time he was out in the hallway and he was relieved to see a WC sign in the distance.

He shakily walked towards it, turning on the sink and splashing a handful of cold water on his face, as soon as he stepped inside.

It didn't help. So he found a cubicle and stepped inside, grateful that there was a toilet seat cover he could sit down on.

He set his briefcase on the dirty floor and cupped his face with his trembling hands. He'd done so much coke in the last few weeks, he was craving it now. Badly. Every fibre of his body was itching for it. He hadn't slept, really slept, in days now. All his nerves were shot and Les' words were ringing in his ears.

_"...it would've killed her on impact." _

A few inches were all that stood between him being a widower.

A few inches and Gillian would've been gone forever.

He couldn't even begin to imagine it.

He hadn't let himself feel a thing for weeks. But now there was no stopping it. Couldn't hold it back any longer. And the things he felt were overwhelming.

Every one of his limbs were shaking and suddenly Alec heard himself sobbing as the tears poured down his face.

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Group, Washington DC<em>

Even now, after he'd sacked Rader and made the decision, Cal Lightman still didn't want to do this.

Granted, the pounding in his head didn't help.

Part of him hoped that he'd open the door to her office and find the old Foster inside. The one who was ridiculously happy most of the time. The one he'd catch grinning when she ate a piece of chocolate cake or when she watched a toddler run around at a playground.

He missed that Gillian even more than he missed his efficient, reliable partner.

"Cal?"

"Hiya, luv."

He started reading her the moment he entered the room and of course she noticed. Because of it he already saw trepidation on her face.

"Everything alright?" she asked.

"I dunno, you tell me."

He leaned against the edge of her desk. Stared at her unapologetically, even if he knew that it made her uncomfortable. Truth was she looked awful, even though the bruise on the side of her face had all but faded. There were deep circles under her eyes. The chic, form-fitting dress she wore wasn't quite so form-fitting anymore, its fabric hanging off her body loosely now. If she kept it up, she'd soon lose the curves that he liked to check out when she wasn't looking. Even her usually well-organized desk was an uncustomary mess.

There were so many little signs that she was coming apart at the seams. Of course he'd seen them. But, truth was, he hadn't really _wanted_ to see them. He'd been too preoccupied with getting Zoe back and Gillian played along by pushing him away every time he did make a half-assed effort to get something out of her.

"What do you mean?" Her defences were already up.

"You didn't tell me you were twenty minutes late for the FBI meeting. You know Rader spent weeks working on that contract, right?"

"What was I supposed to tell you? That I got stuck in traffic? They understood. They were fine in the end."

"Were they?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Yes. We're getting that contract. Promise."

He scrunched his lips. "Alright then."

"Is there something else?" she asked and there was no mistaking the tired irritation in her voice.

"You don't think you should've told me? Your partner, the guy who's running this place with you? So I don't have to hear it from Rader?"

Gillian stood up from her chair. "I can't believe he ran off and told you..."

"Tell you what I can't believe, Gill. That you're getting into car accidents that nearly get you killed, while speeding away from police cruisers, and that you can't bother to mention that to me either!"

Her eyes widened in genuine shock while her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, just before turning a darker, angry red.

"You have no right, Cal..."

"Yeah...I do." He got right into her face now, because the truth was; he was angry too. "When all of a sudden I've got a partner who screws up every day at the office, whom I can't trust to be honest about a single thing any more, and whom I can't send on a simple, contract-closing meeting without messing it up...then, hell yeah, I've got a right to find out what's going on."

She took a sideways step to get away from him. "You're spying on my personal life and it's none of your business!"

"Like hell it isn't!"

He was so close to her now, his face only inches away from hers, and there were so many things he could see in those expressive blue eyes of hers, some of them made him angrier and others just made him want to wrap his arms around her. They triggered other emotions too. Thoughts and feelings that he wasn't entirely sure he should be having.

She gave him a little shove when her eyes started to water. "Go away, Cal."

"Not a chance."

"Fine," she side-stepped him again. "I'm leaving then..."

He grabbed her shoulders and saw her wince. Another consequence of her car accident. Another thing she hadn't told him about.

_Christ, Gill. What else? _

He let go right away. "Sorry, luv."

_"Get out of my way!" _

This time the push she gave him was decidedly less gentle.

Gillian was a handful right now. Angry and hurt because he'd exposed her and all sorts of indignant on top of it.

It was tempting to let her go. To let her run out of the office and let someone else deal with this. With her.

But Cal held his ground, stepping right back in front of her. "No...we're gonna talk about this. Here and now."

"You're not my damn therapist, Cal!"

She gave him one more push, but this time he caught her wrist. "No, I'm not. I'm your partner, and your friend...and I'm not gonna keep watching you self-destruct while you take the whole bloody company down along with you!"

"What do you _want _from me?"

"How 'bout the truth?"

She stopped trying to push him away and wiped away her tears instead. "Look...losing Sophie. It took a lot out of me. Okay? I'll get it together...I swear."

"Don't give a damn about that right now." Cal handed her a tissue as she leaned against her desk, next to him. "I know that losing her was...impossibly hard. But that's not what this is about. Every day I come to work and see this guilt and regret written all over your face, you wanna tell me what_ that's_ about?"

Gillian turned to meet his gaze and he could almost see the walls coming up again.

"Do you regret adopting her? Is this about Alec?"

Her stare was icy. "You know that Line we talk about? The agreement we made not to do anything about the things we see unless the other person..."

"Fuck the line, Gill." He cut her off. Tip-toeing around this hadn't gotten him anywhere. Had only made things worse. "Not this time."

Now she turned away, not knowing where to look anymore and desperately searching for something else to focus on. Anything but his unrelenting gaze. It was what she did, when she felt trapped. When she wanted to run away but couldn't.

So he was sat in silence with her.

Maybe she was hoping he'd give up, lose patience and eventually let her off the hook.

_Nice try. You're talking to the Dad of a strong-willed teenager. _

Or maybe she knew better and waited until she found the right words. Foster had a habit of doing that too.

So Cal waited, sitting alongside her and every now and then he caught her stifling a sob.

He waited until she stopped crying too. Waited some more, until he finally put one of his hands over hers, running a gentle circle on it with his thumb.

"Tell me," he repeated.

"You don't understand."

"_Try_ me."

"It's _my_ fault that we lost her."

Cal exhaled. Not what he was expecting.

"How?"

"Keisha's Mom called our place the day before they took her away. Asked me how Sophie was, how her health was..."

"And?"

"I told her she was great. That she was...perfect and healthy."

Gillian wiped away the fresh tears. "And the next day she was gone. All I had to do was tell one lie...tell them she wasn't well...that she needed treatment, lots of expensive treatment! It's what they feared when they found out how heavy Keisha's drug use was during the pregnancy. But I didn't think..._I just didn't think,_ Cal." She turned to him and this time he did think she might break his heart. "_How could I have been so stupid_?"

Cal gave her gentle nudge back into her seat. Kneeled down in front of her as he handed her another tissue.

"Lemme get this straight, Keisha's Mum called to ask you how Sophie was doing and you told her she was fine?"

Gillian nodded.

"And you think telling her that was what made Keisha decide she wanted her back?"

"Isn't it obvious? "

"Obvious to whom?"

Gillian stared at him and said nothing.

But then it dawned on him. Dawned on him and made him furious too.

"Is that what Alec is telling you?"

Gillian didn't answer. Not that she had to.

_So your wife's world falls apart when she loses her daughter and then you decide it's a good idea to blame her for it? _

Cal was glad that Alec Foster wasn't in the same building right now.

"You have any proof of this theory, whatsoever?" he questioned her.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"You're a scientist, luv. Isn't that the first thing we teach our undergrads? Correlation isn't causation and all that?"

Gillian didn't say anything, but she was hanging on this words now. As if he was opening a new door for her.

"Maybe Keisha wanted her back because she wasn't sure whether Sophie was doing well with her new family, d'you ever think of that? That maybe her Mum called you to convince her that leaving Sophie with you was the best thing she could do?"

"Then why didn't she?"

"Keisha's a sixteen-year addict who gave birth two-months ago. Whose hormones were all over the place. Who the hell knows why she makes the choices she makes? How do we know that Sophie's biological father didn't have anything to do with her decision? Maybe she's just a headstrong kid who decided she wanted her baby back...in spite of what everyone else told her."

"I don't know..."

"Exactly! You have no idea._ None_." Cal's hands rested on her thighs while his attention was focused on her face, needed to know he was getting through to her. "I think there's a good chance that no matter what you said or didn't say during that phone call would've made any damn difference."

He thought he caught something else on Gillian's face now. Relief maybe. Or hope. It was so subtle he couldn't quite tell. Even now, he still had a harder time reading her than anyone else.

"You know what I think?" he asked her.

"What?"

"I don't think you should ever feel guilty for being the kind of decent person who doesn't think to lie the moment they start a conversation on the phone."

Gillian agreed with a pensive little nod. "I never thought..."

"Course not. You were too busy beating yourself up over something that was out of your control." Cal's legs were cramping and he slowly got back up.

"I'm sorry, Cal..." she told him. "I've been a mess. I'm sorry for what it's done to the company. To us."

"Bollocks." He shrugged. "Remember my messes? The FEMA contract? Screwed up left, right and centre for a while there, 'till you picked me up off the floor, decided it was time for me to face the truth and that I needed your home cooked meals for a week. If the Lightman Group can survive my monumental screw ups, it's gonna survive yours."

She wasn't entirely convinced. "I feel like I owe Rader an apology too."

Cal flung his arms into the air. "Nah...don't bother. I fired him."

"You _what_?"

"Couldn't stand working with him anymore. Let's face it, we both knew it was gonna happen sooner or later."

"He's done so much for the company."

"_We're_ the ones who built this place," he reminded her. "You and me got us into this fancy building. Rader liked to believe we couldn't do without him anymore, but that's bullshit, Gill. I got tired of hearing it. I think he liked to see you mess up, 'cause it made him look good. We don't need someone like that. Only thing I need is having my partner back. The one I can count on."

"I don't even trust myself lately."

"I do." He told her, letting her know it was the truth. "I trust you."

"Right now..."

"Right now it's Wednesday. You're gonna take the next two days off. Get some sleep. Remind yourself how much you love this place, how passionate you are about what we do here, how mad you are about the guy who's running it with you...and then, then we'll go from there, yeah?"

"Okay." She nodded slowly and this time he thought he caught a glimpse of the old Gillian Foster. The one he used to know.

Even so, there was one other problem. One he didn't want her to think about tonight.

"My place?" he offered.

"Huh?" Gillian raised her brows.

"Cell phones off, Chinese take-away, beer, basketball and Haagen-Dazs? I'll even put fresh sheets in the guest bedroom."

"You know." She smiled at him then. A real, genuine Foster smile. First one in a long time. "That... sounds _amazing_."


	44. Home Comforts

**XLIV) Home Comforts**

_Lightman Residence, Washington DC_

Gillian yawned and lazily opened her eyes just wide enough to catch the time on the bedside alarm clock.

It was when she saw the time that she opened them wider in shock.

It was almost eleven am. She'd slept for nearly twelve hours.

Gillian couldn't remember the last time she had more than a couple of hours of uninterrupted sleep. The last time she felt rested in the morning. Not since before Sophie and that was months ago now.

Gillian turned onto her back and pushed back her pillows so she was half-sitting against the backboard of the bed. She groaned when the movement sent a jolt of pain up into her shoulder. A not-so-subtle reminder of the car accident.

_No. _She corrected herself. _Crash. Not accident. _There was nothing accidental about what she did that night.

Gillian pulled up the comforter and eyed her surroundings.

Cal had put her up in Emily's room, because, contrary to what he'd offered her back at the office, they'd both been too lazy to change the sheets in the guest bedroom last night. Especially when Emily's bed was ready to go and she wouldn't be here until the weekend.

There were a half dozen posters up on the wall. The kind of romantic, ocean-view sunsets that would have made her swoon as a teenager too. And a few others, of rock stars that Gillian might've seen before but couldn't name.

A bunch of well-worn, stuffed animals sat on top of a massive dresser. Next to a gorgeous modern painting. The whole room was half-child, half-adult.

There were photos everywhere too. Two of them stood out to Gillian. One of Emily on horseback sticking her tongue out at the photographer and another one of her at a formal function wearing a stunning blue dress that looked like it was tailor-made for her slender figure.

Cal's daughter had turned into a gorgeous young woman and it made Gillian smile. Made her realize that it was the first time in a long time that she'd woken up to something happy.

Gillian looked down at the oversized t-shirt she wore, with the logo of a British football team on the front. Cal had tossed it to her last night.

The warmth of her surroundings made her want to shut out the world and stay exactly where she was, for at least a day. Or maybe two.

Except that it was eleven in the morning and she was starving. It was one more thing she hadn't felt lately; hungry. In fact, she'd lost enough weight in the last few weeks that she could probably squeeze into something of Emily's while she threw her own clothes into the washing machine.

Reluctantly, Gillian tossed back the thick, warm comforter, grabbed a pair of Emily's track pants from the closet and headed downstairs.

* * *

><p><em>Later<em>

Gillian was sitting by the pantry in the kitchen, a fresh brewed cup of coffee on one side of her, next to a newspaper and an omelette, when she heard the doorbell ring.

She'd planned to ignore it but whoever it was, was persisted. The doorbell kept ringing until she finally got up to see who it was.

Gillian stood on tip-toes to look out the peep-hole, shocked to see her husband standing on the other side of the door. It was almost noon on a weekday. She couldn't fathom Alec being anywhere else but at work.

Gillian opened the door. "Alec?"

"I got your text. About you staying here. But you didn't answer mine." Nervous. He was nervous about something.

"What are you doing here?"

It was cold outside and it looked like her husband was feeling the chill in spite of his wool coat. "Can I come in?" he asked.

Gillian wanted to say no. Selfishly didn't want him inside the one place that felt like a sanctuary.

But of course she did. Let him in.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he stepped into the hallway.

_Depends on your definition. _

But of course she knew what his definition was. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"I've been a jerk," he told her, shifting his weight on his feet. Still nervous. Still uncomfortable.

Sometimes she wondered whether he was ever truly content. At peace. With himself and with his life. Then she remembered the way he'd been with Sophie.

_Fatherhood made you happy. Happier than I've ever seen you before. Happier than I've ever been able to make you. _

"I hope you're not waiting for me to deny that," she said softly. It occurred to her then how angry she was. Angry for the way she'd let him make her feel these last few weeks.

"I talked to Les yesterday," he explained.

Gillian was puzzled. She had no idea who he was talking about.

"He spoke to the cop who tailed you on the highway," he explained. "He said he watched your car flip over. That if it had landed a few more inches to one side, you would have been on the other lane. That there was an oncoming truck there that you would've collided with."

Gillian didn't know what to make of what he said. Much of that night was still a blur to her. Her aimless drive. Her irrational decision to try and outrun the cop car. The ice on the road that made her skid and lose control. Made the entire vehicle flip over so fast she was barely aware that it happened until she landed right side up again and felt a trickle of blood running down the side of her face.

She vaguely remembered the young cop helping her out of the car. He barely looked older than a teenager but he carefully led her into the cruiser. He was surprisingly patient and kind even as he made her take a breathalyser test. Took her to the nearest station after they'd done the obligatory hospital visit, where they'd patched up the side of her head and made her swallow a couple of pills that made her drowsy. He even waited with her until Alec finally got there to take her home. Gillian felt a sudden regret for not even remembering his name. Or thanking him.

"He said you would've died on impact."

Gillian exhaled. Now she got it. Alec had a sudden epiphany that the accident could've been worse.

_You have to imagine me dying before you give a damn?_

"I didn't die," she reminded him. As angry as she was, she had no intention of making him harbour the kind of guilt he'd laid on her the last few weeks. That wasn't her style. "I'm perfectly fine."

"All I cared about after the accident was finding a way to reduce the charges, making sure no one at the office found out...I was upset about the stupid car and the insurance. The bail." His voice was faltering and he was starting to cry. "I could have lost you and all I thought about were the things that don't even matter."

His newfound guilt and regret were killing him. That much she could read on his face.

"You mean everything to me and I almost lost you..."

She wanted to tell him that he didn't lose her. But she didn't, because right now she wasn't convinced it was the truth.

"What do you want me to say, Alec?"

"I want you to come home with me. Please, Gill. Let me make it up to you."

Gillian fought back her tears. It wasn't that hard. Her anger helped. "For weeks you blamed me for losing our daughter. You didn't come home after work. Wouldn't talk to me, wouldn't touch me and...you're doing drugs again. I know you are! And I'm supposed to forget all that because you suddenly think I might have died in that car accident?"

"It hurt so much to lose her," he tried. "I needed to blame something..._someone_."

"So you blamed me," she told him, hearing her voice falter. "Not thinking for a moment that maybe losing our daughter hurt me too. It wasn't just a gut reaction, Alec. It went on for weeks! Every time I tried to reach out to you, you shut me down!"

"I'm sorry I..."

She wouldn't let him finish. "What I did that night, during the snow storm, it was reckless and stupid and but I did it because I had nowhere to go. No one to turn to."

"That's not true..."

He held out his arm but Gillian stepped back.

"I don't want to hurt you," she told him because it was the truth. "But I'm not ready to come home."

Panic and fear was what she saw on his face now.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know," she admitted.

"I'll do it, whatever it is, Gill. I'll do it."

"Stop doing drugs." She thought that maybe it was obvious after everything they'd gone through with his addiction, but maybe it wasn't. _Obviously it wasn't._

Her husband nodded. "I will."

She believed him and normally that would have filled her with relief. There were few things she used to want as much seeing the man she loved stay clean.

But now she didn't feel much of anything except a lingering anger that she couldn't shake. It was ironic. She'd longed for his affection so desperately these last few weeks and now that he was finally offering it, she'd stopped caring.

"I love you," he told her. "I love you and I keep screwing up."

"Alec, stop..." She didn't want this. Didn't want his guilt on top of all the other guilt she'd nearly drowned in these last few weeks.

Alec composed himself. "I'm going to make this right."

Her eyes watered, in spite of her efforts. She believed him. On both counts. He did love her. Didn't want to hurt her. Even if he kept doing it. Even if it hurt him just as much in the end.

She wanted to take him into her arms and let him know that it was going to be okay. Because she loved him and because that's what Gillian Foster did. She made things right.

_Not this time. _

Her body wouldn't co-operate. Wouldn't let her take that step towards him. Instead she folded her arms and took a tentative step back into Cal's house.

"I'm going to an NA meeting tonight."

"Good."

"I love you," he repeated and Gillian saw hope on his face. Hope that maybe if he kept saying it, he'd finally get the reaction he needed from her.

"Then find a way to fix this."

"Gill..." He stepped closer, grabbing a hold of her hand, curling his fingers around her wrist and raising it to his lips, tenderly kissing the palm of her hand as he closed his eyes.

He could be so gentle and loving. When he stopped thinking and pretending and just let his heart take the lead. It was in those rare moments that he reminded her of the man she fell in love with. Made her believe that maybe they could overcome everything and make it last forever.

He slowly lowered her arm and let go of her. Stepped away when he realized she wasn't going to leave or let him in any further.

"I'll make it right, Gill."

She wanted to cup his face in her hands. Wanted to kiss him and feel the warmth of his body. She wanted him. In every sense of the word.

Instead, she crossed her arms again and watched him walk away. Waited until he was gone, out of view, until she closed the door and stopped trying to hold back her tears.

* * *

><p><em>Later <em>

Gillian went back to Emily's room after he left.

Because even though she'd slept almost twelve hours she was still tired.

And because being in that room made her happy.

She crawled under the thick duvet covers and went back to sleep. Wanting to stay there for weeks, months maybe. In that bed and in that room. Away from the reality of her life.

She ended up staying there only a couple of hours before she getting back up to shower. A long, steaming hot shower, alone in Cal's massive bathroom.

Instead of changing back into her freshly laundered work clothes Gillian found some old gym wear that belonged to Emily and slipped into that. Then she made her way back down to the kitchen and found out that, aside from the eggs and toast she had for breakfast, there wasn't much else in the fridge.

It felt strange to be here alone, in Cal's huge house. In the early days of the Group they did a lot of work here, out of his kitchen. Gillian felt at home here. Knew where everything was. But she'd never been here without Cal. Without her car, her make-up or anything more than one change of clothes. It was odd and isolating and liberating all at once.

She glance around the beautiful kitchen, filled with the sudden urge to prepare something in it. Something made with love, from scratch.

Thanks to Alec's endless social obligations and her long work hours, she mostly ate out these days. Had forgotten how much she liked to cook.

Gillian searched for the nearest supermarket on the internet on her phone and almost called a taxi to take her there. Until she realized she had nothing but time on her hands today.

She grabbed a coat from Cal's closest and a pair of sneakers from Emily's. The coat was a big on her but it was warmer and more fitting for her casual outfit than the trench coat she'd worn here last night. She headed outside, deciding to make the trip on foot. Even if it would take a while.

On the way back, bags full of groceries in her hands, Gillian did opt for a taxi.

And once she was back inside his kitchen, she spread her loot on the pantry and glanced over it with satisfaction. After finding a jazz station on the radio and brewing another cup of coffee, she started cooking.

* * *

><p><em>Later <em>

The first thing Cal noticed when he got home was the smell of food wafting through the hallway.

It was an inviting smell and it triggered a sudden rumbling in his stomach.

He tossed off his coat and shoes and ambled down the hallway past the kitchen where an open bottle of red wine was sitting on his pantry.

His houseguest was in the living room, legs curled up on his sofa, watching TV.

"Hey..." she turned her head towards him when he got in but only for a moment before her attention was back on the television. "Oh my god...I can't believe she's buying a vowel. Cal, that saying. It's so obvious. 'One good turn leads to another'." Gillian made a face. "How does she not see that?"

Cal chuckled. "Wheel of Fortune, luv, really? There's no soap operas on?"

Gillian took a sip of wine from the glass that was on the coffee table. "Soap operas are on during the day."

"'Course."

Gillian groaned. "How is she still not getting this...and now she lost her turn. Unbelievable."

"Bloody hell." Cal grabbed the remote and turned it off. "You don't get this involved in a Wizards game."

She made a face. "Last night's game wasn't nearly as frustrating as watching this woman lose five thousand dollars."

"What are those smells coming out of my kitchen?"

"Dinner," she told him, getting up. "You hungry? I was waiting for you."

"Yeah," he glanced towards the dining room table. He was starving, come to think of it.

"Sit down," she ordered. "I'll grab the food."

There was a bowl full of salad already on the table. Lettuce, tomatoes, olives, onions, cucumbers and little cubes of feta cheese. It was a mosaic of colours and it looked fantastic.

He helped himself to some while she brought out a steaming hot dish from the oven.

"I made breaded veal and scalloped potatoes."

She didn't ask him if he liked it. Knew him well enough to know he ate pretty much anything that was set in front of him. But this...this was making his mouth water.

He started devouring the salad.

"Where the hell d'you get all this?"

"Supermarket," she told him, pouring him a glass of red wine. "You should check it out some time."

He grunted an acknowledgement between bites. Truth was he did like to cook. And he did when Emily was around, but cooking for himself didn't bring him a whole lot of joy. So most of the time he didn't bother.

Gillian pushed a little bowl towards him. "I made a curry dip. If you want to try it with the meat. I know you like it spicy." Her lips curled into a little smile and for a second he wasn't sure whether she was talking about food.

He cut a piece of veal and dipped it in the bowl, widening his eyes when he felt its kick hit his tongue. This was the real deal. Not some lame American version of Indian spice.

"Nice," he acknowledged. "You gonna have to give me that recipe."

"On my deathbed," she told him, helping herself to a generous portion of potatoes.

It struck him then, that for the first time in months, he felt like he had his partner back. The one who loved to eat, who made jokes, watched bad TV shows and gave as good as she got. And, who, shockingly, was a much better cook than he'd ever imagined her to be.

She looked better too. Even dressed in his daughter's old work-out clothes, hair tied back and without an ounce of make-up, Foster looked better than she had in weeks.

_Why the hell did I wait so long to give her what she needed so badly?_

They talked about Emily and work and why their favourite sports teams couldn't get their collective asses together and win something big.

It wasn't until she brought out the dessert, that Cal realized how much he missed this. The soft jazz music coming from the kitchen and a real meal with a real conversation at the end of the day. There was life in his house again. But more than, it suddenly struck him how much he liked having _her _here. How easily she fit into his life and his home.

_I could imagine coming home to you every day. _

The thought sent a guilty warmth down his throat.

And Gillian was oblivious to it all.

"I bought these at the pastry section," she admitted. "Chocolate chip cookies with Emily aside, baking's not my forte."

Cal didn't care. Sweets weren't his thing.

It was a key lime pie and he started eating it anyway, even though he was getting full.

"Alec stopped by," Gillian told him, between bites of her pie.

"Ah yeah?" He tried to sound casual.

"He said he was sorry."

_He should be. _

Cal wasn't sure what to say to that. Or whether he should say what he might've wanted to, so he didn't say anything.

"Cal?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks, for letting me stay here."

"You can stay as long as you want."

_Except if you stay longer I might not wanna let you go. _

"Do you mind if I stay one more night?"

"Course not."

"I'm going back home tomorrow," she told him.

Cal nodded. "Alright."

She must've caught something in his face. "I love him, Cal," she explained.

"You don't have to explain," he lied. "Besides, it's probably for the best, 'cause I could get used to this."

There was a pleased grin on her face when her blue eyes met his.

She thought he was talking about the food.


	45. Eli Loker

**XLV) Eli Loker **

"Can I help you?"

He looked lost. The young man with the dark, very wavy hair, wearing a chequered wool vest over his chequered shirt.

Gillian Foster noticed him observing the wall of famous faces that were mounted in the ground floor hallway of the Lightman Group.

"This is fantastic," he exclaimed. "What a great idea. This wall of expressions by famous people."

_I'll be sure to let Rader know. _

He pointed to the one of Dick Cheney. "That's contempt." The man's good-looking boyish face widened into a grin. "I can tell. I've read Doctor Lightman's book three times."

_Impressive. That's two more than I have._

"Three times, really?"

"He's incredible. The things he can see, things that most people would never notice."

He turned around, his dark eyes taking her in, as if finally noticing her once he was able to draw his attention away from the faces.

"You're kinda hot."

Gillian's eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

_Kinda? _

His gaze darted to her wedding ring and he blushed a little. "Not that I'd ever do anything about that. I don't hit on married women."

_Wow. _

"Good to know," she told him. "Tell me, do you always blurt out what's on your mind like that?"

"Usually," he admitted. "I believe in something called Radical Honesty."

"Radical honesty?"

"I don't lie. At all. Not even a little. Ever."

Gillian raised a sceptical brow. "So tell me...how are you feeling right how?"

His mildly embarrassed smile told her that he knew she was testing him.

"I'm really nervous. A little excited too. My stomach's flipping all over the place. So much so that there's a chance I might throw up right here in the hallway."

_I suggest you don't. _

Gillian took a deep breath. "That is...radical."

"You work here, don't you?"

"I do."

"What's it like, working for him?"

"For Lightman?"

The young man nodded. "Yeah..."

Gillian pondered the question. "I don't know."

"But you said..."

"Is there anything that I can help you with?" she repeated. "Or are you just stopping by to have a look at the building because you were in the neighbourhood?" She didn't really have time to humour him. There was an accountant suspected of fudging his numbers that was waiting for her in the Cube.

"I have an interview with Doctor Lightman."

Suddenly it dawned on her. This was the social psych grad from...

Gillian couldn't remember which college he'd come from anymore but it was an Ivy League one. He was the guy whom Lightman was going to interview for Wei Ling's position. Wei Ling who'd been with them since the very beginning but was just last week accepted into a doctoral programme on the other side of the country.

Gillian had a hard time picturing this man taking over for the young Asian woman she'd grown to like so much.

He interrupted her thoughts by holding out his hand.

"My name's Eli."

She shook his hand. "Gillian."

His goofy smile widened. "Nice to meet you, Gillian. Maybe we'll work together soon."

_I don't know about that. _

She did manage a forced smile as she gestured down the hallway. "Why don't I take you to Dr. Lightman's office?"

"Oh...not yet," he told her. "I'm early. Forty-five minutes early."

_Of course you are. _

"Well, when you're ready," she pointed out. "It's the second door on the left. I suggest you knock."

He nodded appreciatively. "Thanks for the tip."

Gillian nodded in return. "Welcome."

_In the meantime, try not to throw up in the hallway. _

_And don't even think about it, Cal. _

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Group, <em>

_Later_

The session with the accountant took longer than she expected. Much longer. And then there was the paperwork for the FBI contract. Noelle and Rader getting fired at nearly the same time had left a void in the company and she'd fallen behind her own case load after losing Sophie. It all meant that both her and Cal had more work than they knew what to do with.

Sometimes Gillian could go for an entire day without seeing much of Cal.

It was almost eight o'clock now when she popped her head into his office.

A mound of paperwork was on his desk as well as a glass of scotch.

Gillian smirked. "You sure you should be doing paperwork when you're under the influence?"

Cal didn't even look up at her. "Hemingway wrote his best work when he was smashed."

Pushing away a bunch of folders, in order to clear a spot for herself, Gillian sat down on his desk.

"Literature, Foster. Try it some time."

Gillian shot him a look. "Oh get off your high horse. I've seen the stash of Playboy magazines that are badly hidden in your library."

Her remark barely registered. Instead, Cal fiddled with his cell phone, clearly annoyed at the texts he was reading.

"What's wrong?"

"Had plans to spend the weekend with Emily but Zoe just texted to tell me it's not happening."

Gillian cringed. "Don't you have a legal right to see her on weekends?"

"I do..." he paused. "'Except Zoe said she's taking her to Chicago to see her family this weekend. I can come see her there if I want to. Course she bloody well knows I can't. Not at the last minute."

"Talk to your lawyer," Gillian told him. "Don't let her get away with this."

He finally looked up at her with a sigh. "She does it 'cause she knows I won't. She knows I don't wanna make things worse between us, for Em's sake."

"It's manipulation."

"Shocking isn't it?"

"Why is she doing it?" Gillian probed.

"You know a few weeks ago, when you stayed at my place for a couple of nights? Forgot to make the bed in Em's room after you left. When my daughter asked who was in it...I told her the truth. I mean...why the hell wouldn't I? It's not like we did anything scandalous. It was her bed you messed up not mine!"

The way he looked at her when he said it sent a warmth from Gillian's throat right into her cheeks. What she saw on Cal's face when he suggested her sleeping in his bed was there for only a second but she caught it nonetheless.

_Desire. _

Cal extinguished it with lightning speed. Thinking she hadn't seen it.

"We're not even married anymore and she's still bloody jealous. For no goddamn reason."

_Unless one day she saw what I just saw. _

Gillian brushed the thought from her mind. It was a ridiculous thought. They'd never cross the line. Not while either of them were married. No matter what she sometimes saw. Or what she sometimes felt in response. Like now.

"How'd it go with the guy from KPMG, the accountant?" Cal asked her, wanting to get off the topic as much as she did.

"Good. I mean...for us. Not for him. I caught him in several lies. Gave the company my analysis. Case closed."

Cal nodded. "Good."

"The FBI paperwork's done too," she told him. "We might have a case with them in as little as two weeks. Some mobster investigation in New York City."

Cal groaned a little. "Good thing I hired a new lab assistant then."

Gillian stared at him. She'd all but forgotten about the guy she'd met in the corridor earlier in the day. The gushing, radically honest, sweater-vest wearing student.

"You didn't hire that kid, did you? Tell me you're kidding!" She was the one groaning now. "Seriously, Cal?"

"Why wouldn't I? Old colleague of mine who's at Columbia personally recommended him. Loker's done some fascinating social psych work and we haven't got anyone like that in our tool box."

"Do we _need_ that in our tool box?"

"Did I mention he read my book three times?"

"Please tell me that's not what got him hired."

Cal chuckled. "Didn't hurt."

"Did he mention this...Radical Honesty thing to you at all?"

"He did," Cal told her, turning off his computer. "Did you know was 21 when he had his first girlfriend? You have to be radically honest to admit that."

Gillian winced. "Tell me you didn't ask him any wildly inappropriate personal questions to test that out."

"Just a couple." Cal walked over to his carafe, got a glass and poured her some scotch. "Had to find out whether he was bluffing or not."

"You know how awkward that's going to be when we take him out on a case and he just blurts out the first thing that comes into his mind?" Gillian sat down in the chair across from him, crossed one leg over the other and took a sip of his scotch. "I met him this morning and you know what he said to me? That I'm 'kinda hot'. I didn't even know the guy!"

"Just kinda? So that's why you're pissed with him."

"You're an idiot."

Gillian saw a scrunched up piece of paper and threw it at Cal. It bounced right off his forehead and landed in the wastebasket. The basketball fan in her was impressed.

"If we can't handle a compulsively honest employee, then who the hell can? Loker will never find a job." He grinned again. "Plus, he came cheap. Offered him ten grand less than the amount we agreed on and he still took the job."

"Cal?"

"What?"

"He took it because you're his academic idol!"

"Who cares why? We saved ten grand. We got a replacement for Wei Ling. And he'll start tomorrow."

"Fine..." Gillian conceded. Funny how a glass of scotch could make her irritation mellow so quickly. "But we're paying him what we agreed on. We're not running a sweat shop here."

"First you don't want me to hire him, now you already wanna give him a raise?" Cal grabbed her empty glass and got up to put them both in the sink across the room. "Explain that to me?"

Gillian got up and straightened her skirt. Clearly a reasonable conversation wasn't possible with him tonight. "I'm not even going to answer that." She gave him a mock salute. "'Night, Cal."

He smirked as she left his office, completely unaware of the fact that she could see him checking out her legs in the reflection of his windows.

"'Night, luv."

* * *

><p><em>The next day<em>

_Lightman Group _

He was back. In almost the same place she'd first seen him yesterday. Standing in the hallway, looking at the collage of famous faces. He wore a sweater-vest again and for a second Gillian wondered how many of them he had in his collection.

His dorky smile was even wider than yesterday.

"Welcome back," she told him.

"Hi, Gillian."

"I heard you got the job."

"I did. Guess we are working together now."

"Not quite."

"Excuse me?"

"You'll be working_ for_ me. I'm Dr. Lightman's partner. He might've mentioned that during your interview. Or he might not have...but I'm letting you know now." _Especially since I just put an extra ten thousand into your signing contract._

"He mentioned his partner...Doctor Foster and I just..."

"Assumed it was a man?"

Eli Loker paused a moment. "Yeah...I did. I'm sorry. That was stupid of me. Totally stupid."

"It's okay..." she told him, appreciating his admission. There was something to be said for Radical Honesty after all. "Just don't do it again. We try not to make assumptions around here. If we did we'd be out of business pretty fast."

"Won't happen again." He said it with such earnestness it almost made her feel bad for admonishing him. Almost.

Gillian gestured for him to follow when she started walking down the corridor. "Lightman's busy this morning. He asked me to introduce you to the others. Wei Ling will give you the grand tour and show you the ropes once you're there."

"Doctor Foster?"

"Yes?"

"You won't regret hiring me. Promise."

Gillian turned to him. He meant it. Truly and sincerely. So much so that she had to bite back a smile.

Maybe hiring Eli Loker wasn't such a terrible decision after all.


	46. A Warning and a Promise

**XLVI) A Warning and a Promise **

_New York, New York _

The trendy restaurant they were in was packed. Table after table full of good looking New Yorkers with too much disposable income.

Cal Lightman spotted a lot of fake teeth, fake smiles and even more fake breasts.

It made him long for a grimy pub in Liverpool. For a pint of dark ale and a plate full of greasy bangers and mashed. Served to him by a pasty Englishman with bad teeth.

But apparently he was the only one with that kind of longing.

"I've read about this place," Foster gushed. "Been dying to try it out."

His partner liked this sort of thing. Food with unpronounceable names and fancy wines.

Cal hated it. And he thought it made no sense tonight. They were supposed to be having a serious discussion about a serious case. But of one of the two G-Men had taken a fancy to Foster and this was him trying to impress her.

It didn't impress Cal.

_She's married, you idiot. And blindly faithful to the wanker. It's me you're supposed to be impressing, the guy who's going to interrogate your eyewitness. _

But they both hadn't eaten since breakfast and Foster was in one of her giddy, happy moods so he didn't quite have it in him to tell them he wanted no part of it. Even he wasn't that much of a miser. Especially knowing there hadn't been a whole lot of happiness in her life since losing Sophie.

She'd dressed up for the occasion too, wearing one of her tight dresses and higher-than-usual heels, both of which drew a fair share of second glances, even in this room full of stunning women. Not that Cal thought there was really any competition. Everything about Foster was real, from her heart to the lines on her face, and he preferred it that way. There was enough deception in the world as it was.

Cal, on the other hand hadn't bothered to change. He wore the same wrinkled suit he'd worn since this morning, since their early morning flight from DC.

A stylish gay waiter came around to take their drink order.

Gillian ordered a glass of wine, winning over the waiter by pronouncing its French name perfectly. The FBI agent with the crush on Foster ordered the same thing, butchering the name.

_Lame. _

And the other G-man asked for a Coke.

_Even lamer. _

"It's why they put Joey on this case," the first FBI agent pointed out with a chuckle. "He's even more of a boy scout than the rest of us."

Joey Schmidt, FBI, was married, devoutly religious and a teetotaller. That's what he'd learned from the time they spent together today and Cal could tell he hated it here. The guy could care less about impressing Foster or anyone else in the room. It was the only thing that made Cal feel some sort of momentary kinship with him.

"For you, sir?" the waiter asked Cal.

"Scotch on the rocks. Make it a double." He guessed he was going to need a couple of those to get through this dinner.

After the drinks arrived and they ordered their food, Nate Messino, the agent who couldn't stop flirting with Foster started talking about the case.

Cal stopped him almost as soon as he started. "Is this a good idea, with all these people around? Given the nature of this thing?"

Nate looked offended. "We won't exactly be mentioning any names, Dr. Lightman."

_As if that makes a bloody difference. _

"Once he's brought to New York tomorrow and we start the questioning we're going to put a security detail on you and Dr. Foster."

Gillian looked surprised and Cal squinted. "Why? I thought no one knew about our involvement with this except for your bosses?"

"They don't and there's no way anyone ever will. We're doing everything to keep this confidential and to keep your company's name out of it, for your safety. But these guys they've got eyes and ears everywhere."

"Including the top echelons of the FBI?" Gillian questioned.

"No, of course not," Nate told her. "We're just taking a better-safe-than-sorry route."

Cal had a sip of his scotch and felt it warm his throat. He didn't like this.

The FBI had hired the Lightman Group to prove or disprove whether this guy could be trusted. The guy in question being a former member of the very organized crime syndicate that he was now saying he'd help to bring down. They knew him only as Franco. And Franco promised he would testify in a court of law against them if the government could guarantee him a new life in exchange.

Except they didn't trust the guy. Didn't trust whether he was actually telling the truth and whether it was worth trying to build an entire case around what was essentially his lone testimony.

_That _was going to be up to the Lightman Group to decide.

And if Franco was telling the truth there would be a lot of people who'd want him dead.

"A security detail is only going to attract attention," Cal told them. "That's the last thing we need. Or want."

"It's up to you," Joey finally chimed in. "We don't think there's any threat to you, but we recommend it anyway, at least until the trial starts. If there's going to be a trial."

Cal turned to Foster and then back to Joey. "We'll let you know tomorrow."

They waited some time for the food. Talked more about the logistics of what was ahead for them tomorrow. Had another round of drinks in the meantime and Cal had to refrain from getting up and walking out of the room. It was starting to suffocate him. The steak he was anticipating was the only thing that kept him here.

When the food did come the two agents dug in and Cal wondered why everything was stacked like a tower on his plate. It looked like a toddler assembled it after it left the kitchen.

Still, he had to admit it was good. Full of flavour and cooked just the way he liked it.

Foster on the other hand barely touched the food on her plate. And when Cal took a moment to look in her direction he noticed that she had a hard time keeping her eyes open.

"You alright?" he asked quietly. The two men at the table didn't hear him.

"Yeah..." Foster moved a hand to her temple.

"Headache?"

"No...just tired."

"Jet-lagged from our one-hour flight?"

He caught a tiny smile.

"Idiot."

Cal watched as she drank some water and then he turned his attention back to his steak. It really was good. Almost made up for everything about this dinner that wasn't good. The two G-men barely noticed their exchange.

Only a couple of minutes later he felt Gillian's hand on his arm. "I think I'm going to head back to the hotel."

She hadn't eaten anything at all and he saw her struggle to wrap the black shawl she'd draped over her red dress on the way here.

Cal helped her with it and finally Nate stopped wolfing down his chicken. "Dr. Foster, you're leaving?"

"Yeah...I think something's hit me. Out of nowhere." She managed another smile that didn't fool any of them.

Cal tossed down his napkin. "I'll go with you."

He would've loved an excuse to leave before the food came but now that he was enjoying it, it made him feel a pang of regret to leave it behind. He almost asked for a take-out bag.

_You've got lousy timing tonight, Foster._

"Don't," Gillian protested. "Stay here and finish. It's a five minute cab ride back to the hotel, I don't need a babysitter."

He might've done just that if she hadn't slurred the last few words.

All his attention was on her now and it made him realize something wasn't right. Made him forget his steak.

"I insist," Cal told her nudging her away from the table and nodding a good-bye to the two FBI agents who both mustered the requisite amount of concern before turning their attention back to their food.

They stepped outside and Gillian held on to him as he flagged a cab. "Gill, what the hell's going on?"

None of this made sense. The Gillian he knew rarely got sick and when she did, she powered through it. _Especially_ if it involved dinner at a fancy restaurant she'd been dying to try out.

Watching her struggle just to stand made him think it was something else.

"I don't know..." She was in a daze and Cal caught the fear in her eyes. This was scaring her too. And in turn it scared him even more.

"Did you _take_ something today?"

She didn't understand the question. "What?"

"Any drugs?"

"No. Why would I take...?"

"Allergy meds? New prescription? Something herbal? Anything that might've interacted with the wine you had?" He put both hands on her shoulders. "You look...intoxicated, Foster! Not sick."

"No...no drugs. I don't take anything. Cal...stop." She pushed him off. "I feel sick."

A taxi came to a screeching halt next to them and Cal opened the door, putting his arms around Foster's shoulders as he led her in.

She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes during the five minute cab ride and when they got to the hotel she was so out of it he literally had to hold her up as they got out of the taxi.

His mobile phone started beeping.

"Cal..." Gillian's eyes were half closed and part of him wanted to stick her back into another cab and take her to the nearest hospital.

This wasn't normal. They'd gone out drinking often enough that he knew alcohol didn't affect her like this. Especially not two measly glasses of wine.

She'd draped her arm over his shoulder and he supported the bulk of her weight as they clumsily walked through the lobby.

He held on to her more tightly once they were in the elevator and there were no more prying eyes on them.

"Cal..."

He barely heard her say his name.

It was the last thing she said before she passed out.

Her knees buckled and she slumped against him. Had he not had an arm wrapped around her already she would've crashed to the floor. Instead, he scooped her up into his arms.

"Gillian?"

There was no reaction from her at all and now he was really rattled. Something was terribly wrong.

Thankfully there was no one in the hallway when he got off the elevator. The black shawl she'd been wearing fell to the floor as he carried her and Cal left it there. Not caring.

Part of him debated going back down to the lobby. Having the front desk call an ambulance.

But then he decided against it. He'd take her to his room and call for help from there.

Light and small as she was, it was still be a challenge to open the door with her deadweight in his arms. Cal fished for the plastic key card in his pocket with an index finger. The action took every ounce of strength and co-ordination he had, but he managed to open the door without letting her slip out of his arms.

Then he walked over to his king size bed and set her down.

He slapped her cheeks. Gently at first then harder.

Nothing.

Foster was out cold.

He pulled his mobile from his pocket about to call 911 when he suddenly noticed that there were twenty-seven new text messages on the phone.

Cal swallowed dryly as he clicked on the first one and realized they all said the exact same thing.

_Tonight we knocked out your partner. You're going to tell the FBI that Franco is lying or we will take her out for good. Don't tell anyone and don't take her to a hospital. You do, we'll kill her. If you fuck this up we kill her. Maybe not today or tomorrow. But we will kill her. This is a warning and a promise. _


	47. Grievous Bodily Harm

**XLVII) Grievous Bodily Harm**

Cal's heart was racing as he stared at Gillian, unconscious on his hotel bed.

He didn't have to re-read the text messages for them to swim in his thoughts.

_Don't take her to a hospital. _

He couldn't take his eyes off her. As if by doing so she might stop breathing.

_If you fuck this up we will kill her. _

She'd been drugged, with god knows what and who knows when (probably the wine at the restaurant), but she was. That was obvious now. And whatever they gave her was scary potent.

"Come on, luv. Wake up." He squeezed her hand and slapped her cheeks again. Nothing.

He couldn't remember the last time he wanted something as badly as he wanted her to open those familiar blue eyes right now. Couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this scared. Maybe it was when Emily was six years old and had a fever that wouldn't break for three days straight. He remembered the helplessness that gripped him then. That's what he like felt now. _Helplessness. _

What if she didn't wake up? What if...she had some adverse reaction to whatever they gave her?

Cal's heart raced.

_But what if they mean it? What if I take her to a hospital and they keep their word? _

He started pacing in his room, drawing the curtains with one swift, angry movement.

What if they were watching them?

How the hell could anyone even know they were on this case?

Cal's mind drifted back to their dinner table conversation.

_"...they've got eyes and ears everywhere." _

_"Including the top echelons of the FBI?" _

Apparently the answer to that question was a yes.

He kept checking her neck for a pulse, grateful each time that he found one. Her breathing was too shallow for his liking. But she was breathing.

"Alright..." he decided aloud. "No hospital. For now."

Gillian was still lying on her back , so Cal turned her onto her side, knowing that as soon as she woke up she'd probably be sick. That's how drug addicts and alcoholics died sometimes. By chocking on their own vomit before they fully regained consciousness.

Something else occurred to him then too.

That he should make her more comfortable. Get her out of that tight dress, so she could breathe more easily.

He started unzipping the side of her dress, before lifting one of the straps off her shoulder.

They'd been through a lot in their last few years together. Had seen each other at their best and worst and Cal could've sworn there wasn't anything left between them that could possibly make them uncomfortable. This was Foster. His best friend and partner.

Foster, who'd fallen asleep on his shoulders on airplanes and slept in Emily's bedroom after losing Sophie. Who babysat his puking daughter during a case in Colorado, baked cookies in his kitchen, got him out of jail in Vegas and helped bring him back from the abyss, one day at a time, after the shooting at the warehouse.

But this... this act of undressing her without her consent, this was a whole other level of intimacy.

They'd never seen each other naked and he didn't think they ever would. Not that the idea hadn't crossed his mind every time he saw her in one of those tight dresses. But thinking and doing were two entirely different things.

Cal lifted the other strap off her shoulder and gently pulled the dress over her hips.

He felt even guiltier because the things he felt now had nothing to do with the concern he was supposed to be feeling as her best friend.

The reactions he had to the red, lace lingerie she wore were decidedly more primal.

Maybe it was because he hadn't expected his good-girl partner to wear something quite so racy. Or to look quite so stunning in it.

His eye caught something else he didn't expect. A tiny tattoo just above her right hip-bone. Cal couldn't make out what it was. A symbol of sorts. Almost dragon-like. Asian probably, but he wasn't entirely sure. It curved, crescent-like along the contours of the hip bone, its narrow tip ending just below the base of her flat stomach.

It was beautiful and exotic and his curiosity was dying to know what it meant. How she got it. When she got it. And some irrationally jealous part of him wondered how many other men had seen it.

Truth was, she was taking his breath away and he felt guilty as hell for feeling the things he was feeling.

How could he ever going to look at her the same way again?

Cal thought of her lacklustre husband.

_Gillian Foster. Brilliant, warm and sexy as hell. _

_In what world does a clueless, spineless wanker like Alec score all that? _

There wasn't the slightest reaction on her part when Cal undressed her. But at least now he could better see the subtle rise and fall of her chest, letting him know she was still breathing.

Still, Cal decided, he couldn't leave her like that. Seeing herself half naked in his bed when she did wake-up would disturb and confuse her even more. Plus, he needed his thoughts to stop going where they were going. And that wasn't going to happen as long as she was lying on his bed wearing only _that_.

Cal opened his suitcase and pulled out one of his shirts and when he was back at her side he moved an arm behind Gillian's back, lifting her up just enough so that she leaned against him, while he slipped her arms through the sleeves of his shirt. It was big on her and he did up the buttons until he couldn't see that red lace bra anymore. He should've removed it, for the sake of her comfort, but he couldn't quite bring himself to do it.

Gently, he lowered her back onto the bed and then turned her over, so that she was lying on her side again.

It definitely had to be more comfortable than the dress she'd worn. And infinitely less distracting for him.

Now there was nothing left to do but wait until she woke up again.

_Don't make me wait too long, luv. 'Cause you have no idea how terrifying it is not knowing when it's gonna happen. If it's gonna..._

"For chrissake, stop that," he chided himself. He wasn't going to go there.

Cal couldn't risk falling asleep so he got up to brew himself some tea. Then he turned on all the lights as well as the TV, setting the volume on high.

When the tea was ready and strong enough for his liking he slipped out of his dress shoes and sat down on the bed next to her, alternating his attention between her breathing and what was on the television.

His hand reached for hers at one point and he trailed his fingers along the top of her hand, squeezing it every now and then in the hopes of eliciting some sort of reaction. Hanging on to it, just in case.

Ten hours later the kettle of tea was empty, Cal's eyes stung with fatigue and he was dangerously close to dozing off even though his heart pounded a little harder with every ten minutes that went by without her waking up.

_Ten hours is a ridiculously long time. What the hell did they give you? _

Another handful of minutes later he finally felt her stir as she eased her hand out of his.

"Gill?"

Eyes opening just enough that he saw it, Gillian turned her head sideways and closed them again.

"Oh no you don't..." Cal shook her a little. "I've waited long enough for this. Come on, wake up. You can do this."

Gillian resisted and he grabbed her hand and slapped it.

She groaned and re-opened her eyes, just slightly wider this time. "Cal?"

Relief flooded him. "Finally..."

She turned onto her back and pressed the palm of her hand into her forehead. "Cal? What...? Where...where are we?"

"You're in my room. In New York City."

"In_ your_ room?" She looked at him with even more confusion this time and used an arm to push herself off the bed.

He could almost see her complexion change to a greyish tint as she sat up.

"Cal..." She exhaled and looked at him like he was a stranger. "I think...I'm going to be sick."

Cal figured that was bound to happen and he'd already placed the ice-bucket that was next to mini-bar, on the floor beside the bed.

He grabbed it and held it up for her. "That's okay...it's a good thing. You need to get that crap out of your system."

She didn't know what to make of his gesture. Instead of throwing up into the bucket she turned to get out of the bed. To make a run for the bathroom.

But the moment she tried to stand up, she fell to her knees and dropped to the ground.

"Bloody hell, Foster." Cal jumped to the other side of the bed. "That...is a lousy idea. Don't do that."

Fear and confusion was all he saw when she looked at him. "So dizzy..." she mumbled. "What's wrong with me?"

"Don't push yourself." Cal threw her arm over his shoulder and helped her up, as she groaned. "You're gonna be just fine." He half carried her to the bathroom and yanked open the lid of the toilet so she could throw up. If she didn't want to throw up in the bed that was fine, but she needed to get whatever was left of those drugs out of her. The sooner the better.

He sat down on the tiled floor next to her, holding on to her as she emptied the contents of her stomach. There wasn't much and it occurred to Cal that she hadn't eaten much yesterday. Neither of them did. They didn't have food on the plane, there was no time for lunch and she'd barely touched her dinner. No wonder the drugs hit her so hard and so fast.

But she kept trying to throw up.

He gave her a glass of water and then another one to make things easier. She didn't keep either one down for very long.

They must've stayed in there for nearly an hour. Every time Cal thought that Foster was done, she wasn't. It was messy and painful and both of them were exhausted afterwards.

He ran his hand along her cheek and her forehead, while she was still sitting on the floor, leaning against the bathroom wall in silence.

She radiated warmth and Cal suddenly felt torn over again for not taking her to a hospital. He grabbed a facecloth and soaked it in ice cold water, before gently dabbing it all over her face. Pressing it against her cheeks and neck until her skin finally cooled down.

"Better?"

She nodded weakly.

"Wanna try to head to the couch? Sit up for a bit and see if we can get some food into you?"

He figured that was necessary. If only so she'd actually have something to throw up. To keep her hydrated and ease the cramps.

"I don't know, Cal..."

"I'm going to order something from room service. We'll see if you can handle a bit of it. No pressure."

He helped her stand up. Watched as the effort made her so dizzy and nauseous, she turned around and tried to throw up again.

_Whoever you are that did this, you better fucking hope you never cross my path. _

"Lemme carry you," he told her.

"No."

"Gill?"

"No. It's okay."

Foster clenched her teeth as she took a few tentative steps back into the sitting area.

"Gonna remind you of this next time you call me stubborn."

She sank into the couch and closed her eyes as another wave of nausea washed over her. Cal fetched the ice bucket and put it next to her on the couch. Just in case. Then he set a tall glass of water on the coffee-table. "Try and drink some, alright?"

He kept his eyes on her when he picked up the phone and ordered some breakfast. Bacon and eggs for him, toast and jam for her.

She curled her legs into the couch, one of her arms clasped around her stomach.

He sat down next to her, giving her arm a gentle rub. "You're gonna be okay, luv. Worst is over."

_Was it?_

He hoped it was.

She turned to him and what he saw in her face now took him by surprise. Shame and embarrassment.

"I'm so sorry. I don't know what got into me. I've never been this hung over in my entire life...I don't even remember drinking that much that...I don't remember any of..."

"Hey..." he cut her off. "This isn't your fault. You have nothing to feel bad for. This isn't a hangover."

"What do you mean?"

He sighed not sure whether she was quite ready for this yet.

"Cal?"

Who was he kidding. Even in her current state, Foster would insist on knowing.

Cal grabbed his mobile phone and showed her the text messages.

She moved a hand to her mouth in shock. "Oh my god."


	48. The Morning After

**A/N: **Elaine, if you're reading this I fully expect coconut bludgeoning and photo proof. Because that line needs to be justified.

:)

* * *

><p><strong>XLVIII) The Morning After <strong>

It took a while for it all to sink in for her.

"What does this mean?" she asked in a whisper after the set down the cell phone. Shirking back from it as soon as she did, as if it was contaminated.

"Means you were drugged. Dunno with what or when, but I'd guess the wine at the restaurant. You were fine going in there and then out of it in just over thirty minutes...my guess would be that is was a mix. Rohypnol and GHB. Along with something else. A knock out sedative. No idea what exactly."

"Drugged...?" She eyed him. Stunned and speechless. "And what...what are we going to do about the rest of it?"

Cal lowered his shoulders. The exhaustion was starting to seep into his bones now and he could barely think clearly. He desperately needed a couple of hours of sleep. "I don't know yet. But I'm not gonna do anything that'll risk your life."

"If we tell them he's a liar when he's not...the FBI won't protect him. We'll be signing his death warrant."

Cal nodded. It was true they would. But if it was a choice between an ex-con and his best friend, there was no question in his mind as to what needed to be done. "I don't know yet what I'll do...but we'll find a way out of this."

He thought that she turned a couple of notches paler with the news and it made him worry all over again. Truth was she looked terrible. Pale and jittery as she curled herself up in the sofa. She managed to eat half a piece of toast and drink some water without throwing it up, but he wasn't sure how long that would last. Had a feeling she wasn't quite done yet.

He inched over to her, concerned by the way she bit her lip to ward off some sort of pain. At the way she wrapped her arms around herself. "You okay, luv?"

"Yeah..." But she winced as she said it.

"You know I spot liars for a living, yeah?"

"Headache is pretty bad. So are the cramps."

Cal put an arm around her, holding her close. She groaned at the movement. One of her hands rested on her stomach and he gently moved his own hand on top of hers. Steadying her with the added pressure. Seeing her like this made him want to strangle the culprit with his bare hands.

Cal knew she was tough. Had seen her work through a concussion and a car crash not even flinch through cuts and bruises and scrapes.

If Foster was wincing and whimpering, it was bad. And it was probably because the bastards who did this hadn't thought to dose the drug for her size. Had given her something that would knock out a two hundred pound man. Never mind she'd combined it with two glasses of wine and a lack of food. It was the worst possible combination.

Cal shuddered when he took a moment to wonder how close to overdosing she might have come. Glad that he'd never know because he was sure it was dangerously close.

"Anything I can do?" he asked her.

She leaned her head against him and grabbed his free hand, needing something to squeeze. "No."

He kissed the top of her head. "Take a deep breath. Try and relax. It'll pass."

"Cal?"

"What is it?"

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"Everything."

He held her a little tighter. It hit him then too. That he could've lost her last night and the thought sent chills down his spine. Because he couldn't imagine his life without her in it anymore. Gillian Foster had become his best friend and he'd long ago started taking it for granted that she always would be. For as long as he lived.

Cal swallowed and let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding in. "Anytime."

It took a while but eventually her body relaxed against his and he felt her breathing steady as she fell back asleep. It meant he could relax too and Cal drifted off.

They couldn't have been sleeping for more than an hour when he felt her stirring next to him, trying to lift his arm off of her.

"Hey..." he yawned. "You okay?"

"No..." Gillian shook her head. "Feel sick again."

Cal helped her up, noticing that she radiated warmth again too.

He held up the ice bucket for her.

"No," she protested. "Bathroom." She pushed him away when he helped her walk there. "Let me go alone this time...please."

_Not a chance. You can barely stand up by yourself. _

"Sorry, luv. Not in your state." He was too worried about her to give a damn about her embarrassment. He pushed a strand of moist hair from her face and gave her a reassuring look. "Trust me, I've got a kid. I've seen it all."

"I don't care...not this time."

She pushed him away and made a clumsy run for it, slamming the bathroom door shut behind her.

_Oh blimey...for Christ's sake, Gill, is that necessary? Is this what it's like dealing with me? _

Truth was he'd seen every unappealing human bodily function in full detail long before he had a kid. Thanks to his father. Seeing Gillian sick wouldn't even come close to some of the things his father did when he was drunk out of his mind.

He banged on the door, kicked it once too, but she still wouldn't open it. It was a flimsy door. He could've kicked it down, but that was a little drastic. Even for him.

Although when she still didn't come out thirty minutes later it started to sound like a feasible option.

"If you don't open this door now, I'm gonna break it down and I swear you're gonna pay the bill for it..."

It swung open a little and he saw her sitting on the rim of the bathtub, completely spent.

"Bet that would be a big bill."

Cal kneeled down next to her. "You alright, luv?"

She looked like she wanted to cry. "No."

"Come on," he held out his hand to her and when she didn't respond to his gesture, he draped his arms around her instead. Lifting her up and carrying her back to his bed instead. The fact that she didn't protest scared him more than anything else.

_What the hell am I gonna do? _

Seeing her like this threw him for a loop. Foster was the one who held things together. Took care of the both of them. Not him. He wasn't any good at this.

Cal took a deep breath. Told himself to calm down and think. That this was normal if she really did come close to overdosing. That he needed to keep her hydrated now. Force her to drink as much as she could. Give her something to lower her temperature and ease her discomfort.

After covering her with the blanket, Cal picked up the phone and called the concierge. "I need a sports drink from the gift shop, something with carbs and electrolytes, whatever you can find. Something sweet. Two bottles. "

He jumped into the shower after the items were delivered to his room, needing to get out of his sweaty clothes.

When he was done he changed into a t-shirt and jeans and then went back to check on Foster, who was half asleep, half awake, curled into the fetal position in his king-size bed.

His mobile phone rang and he grabbed it to answer the call.

_"Yeah?" _

_"Hi, Cal. It's Alec. Is Gill with you? She's not picking up her cell. I've been trying to reach her since last night." _

Alec. He'd forgotten all about Alec.

Cal turned to Gillian with a frown. Her eyes were closed shut tightly but she wasn't asleep.

_"She got sick last night. Stomach bug or something. I've been meaning to call you and let you know." _

_"Is...she okay?" _

_"Think so...but she's finally getting some sleep now. Don't have the heart to wake her." _

_"Okay...will you...give her my best? Tell her to call me when she's up to it?" _

_"Yeah...will do." _

Cal ran his tongue over his lips. _Was_ she going to be okay? Didn't her husband have a right to know what happened?

Cal put down his phone. He wasn't up for dealing with Alec Foster right now. Never was really. He had enough on his hands as it was.

He made her sit up, drink some of the Gatorade from a glass, after he crushed two aspirin into it.

Gillian made a face when she drank it. "What's in it?"

"Nothing."

She pushed the glass away. "You're lying...can tell too you know."

"Gill?"

"What?"

"Drink it."

"Cal..."

_"Drink." _

It was an unfair battle because she had no fight in her. Cal couldn't help a chuckle when she finished it without another word.

Better yet, it seemed to work because she fell back asleep not long afterwards.

Cal checked his watch, astounded that it wasn't even nine in the morning yet. He felt like he'd lived three days in the span of one night. He debated calling the FBI to say he wouldn't make it today, but he only had to be there at two in the afternoon and he was itching to get to the field office. He wasn't going to find out who was helping the mob from his hotel room.

Setting the alarm to go off three hours from now, Cal figured he could do it with time to spare.

He fell asleep as soon as he closed his eyes and when his alarm jarred him back awake he saw Foster lying sideways next to him, blue eyes wide open and staring at him.

"Hey..."

"Hey."

"How you feeling?"

"Better."

Cal pressed the back of his palm against her cheek. It felt normal, not hot. He noticed that one of the Gatorade bottles was empty.

He smirked. "Knew if I got something with loads of sugar in it, you'd keep it down."

"You know me too well."

_Thank god. _

He needed her to get better for a myriad of reasons, not the least of which was that he was going to need her to figure this out.

"You gonna be okay if I leave for a bit?" he asked her, stretching as he got up.

Gillian nodded. "Yeah."

"Stay here. Put out the "do not disturb" sign, don't open the door and don't answer your phone if you don't know the number."

"I want to go back to my room, take a shower, change my clothes..."

Cal frowned, not entirely convinced she was up for that. "Alright, let me change and get ready first then I'll take you there."

She sank back into the pillow. "Okay..."

Cal did as promised, making sure she locked the door with the bolt lock as well as the latch. "Take it easy...watch TV and try and eat something," he told her before leaving.

It still didn't make him entirely comfortable to leave her alone, but he figured the hotel room was probably the safest place for her right now. That whatever these thugs had wanted to accomplish had already been done.

Part of him hoped that Franco really was lying. Because if push came to shove, Cal would do as they asked. He'd tell the FBI that Franco was lying.

Because the alternative wasn't an option.

But he wasn't ready to throw in the towel yet. And that meant he needed to figure out who was helping the mob.


	49. By Any Means Necessary

**XLIX) By Any Means Necessary **

_New York City, New York _

He was back at the restaurant they ate at last night.

It was packed and there was a line-up to get to the hostess stand.

"Do you have reservations?" the woman asked without looking up.

"I ate here last night and sat at that table," Cal Lightman told her, waiting until he caught her attention before pointing to the table. "I need to know who the waiter was..."

The girl gave him a quizzical look. "Excuse me...but why?"

And suddenly Cal spotted him in the restaurant, making him forget about the hostess. He waited until he left the table he was serving and then Cal dashed into the dining room, intercepting the waiter before he entered the kitchen. "You remember me?" Cal asked. "I was here last night with a woman and two other men. I had the steak. Or I should say...tried to have it."

One quick glance and the waiter turned away. "Look...I'm sorry but I don't. Last night was really busy."

_Liar. _

Cal flashed him a Lightman Group ID card, barely long enough to give him a chance to look at it. "I work with the CIA," he lied. "I need to talk to you for a moment."

The man swallowed. Fear. "Uh...can it wait? It's really busy right now."

Cal smiled. "It's always really busy here, isn't it?" He led him outside. "Couple of minutes of your time, that's all I need."

Like a good sheep, the man complied.

"Follow me," Cal insisted, leading him away from the restaurant's front door and into an alley in the rear.

He could see the growing discomfort on the man's face. "What is this about?"

"My friend was drugged last night." Cal said it slowly to see the man's reaction. There was no surprise on the man's face and that told him everything he needed to know. "It knocked her out and then it made her sick. _Really _sick."

"I'm...I'm sorry."

Cal stared him down. Intimidation 101. "Why? Why would you be sorry? Unless...you had a hand in it?"

"No..." he answered, too quickly. "I meant, like, when someone dies...you say you're sorry, right? That's all I was trying to say. I'm sorry your friend was sick."

Cal didn't have time for these games. He grabbed the waiter by his collar and shoved him against the wall, so hard and so fast that the guy didn't know what hit him.

"What the..." he coughed.

"I know you know something about who tampered with my friend's drink last night. I don't think you're smart enough to be part of this grand plot yourself...but that someone made you do it. I suggest you tell me who it was."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

_I wish you'd stop lying to me. _

Cal punched the guy in his skinny stomach, so hard that he took his breath away.

"You can make it easy. Or you can make it hard for yourself," he told him. "Your choice. But you are gonna tell me."

"I don't know..." he sobbed.

_You're the most pathetic guy I've ever had to threaten. _

One more punch into his stomach. Cal didn't think he'd be able to handle much more.

The waiter was crying now. "He...he threatened my mother," he told him as he slid down the brick wall, crouching on the ground of the alley now.

Cal kneeled down to look at his face. "Who did?"

"The guy...the guy who made me dump the vial in her drink."

"What guy?"

"I don't know! I swear to god...I'd never seen him before. He was sitting at the bar...came in after the four of you sat down. He...he took me aside. Told me what he'd do to my mother..." He was sobbing harder now. "If...if I didn't do it. He said...he'd slit her throat. He knew where she lived. Knew her name..."

Cal watched the man's face as he spilled his story. Finally he was telling the truth.

"Are there cameras in the restaurant that face the bar?"

The waiter wiped his face. "What?"

"Cameras that might have caught the guy?"

"No...no cameras. "

Cal wished the waiter wasn't telling the truth this time.

"I'm sorry..." he repeated.

Cal wanted to tell him that he was a coward. Wanted to punch him again but it would have been such a hypocritical move, knowing that he was about to do the same thing. Was about to let himself be blackmailed too.

_And in my case the victim will die. _

Cal felt the bitter taste of bile rising in his throat.

They weren't so different, him and the cowardly waiter. And all this fishing expedition did was confirm that Foster was drugged at the restaurant. Nothing else.

Cal left him there, clutching his mid-section in the back-alley.

* * *

><p><em>New York Marriott East Side <em>

It was when she discarded her clothes to step into the bathtub that it occurred to her that the men's shirt she was wearing wasn't her own. That she'd worn a red dress to the restaurant the night before and that she wasn't the one who took it off.

_Cal undressed me last night._

The water hit her face at the same time as the realization did. A flash of guilt hit her then too, not because of what he'd gone through with her last night. She'd have done the same for him if the tables were turned. Cal was her best friend and she trusted him with her life.

She felt guilty because the thought of him undressing her didn't bother her at all. Because part of her wished she'd been awake when he did.

Gillian turned up the heat, forcing the thoughts from her mind as she bit her lower lip. And then she sat down, because she really didn't have the energy to stand. Still felt like she'd been hit by a truck. She let the hot rays of water cascade over her, wishing it were as easy to wash away this entire mess of a case.

Gillian thought back to last night and it made her shiver, in spite of the boiling hot water that poured over her.

She'd looked forward to the dinner all day. After a long day of travelling and working without so much as a break, she'd dressed up for it, looked at the menu online with eager excitement, while Cal mocked her for it. Riled her for her habit of gushing over five-star restaurants.

And she didn't even make it as far as the food. All she remembered was the unbearable heaviness that hit her after that first glass of wine. Remembered being unable to think clearly and that it took a monumental effort just to sit upright at the table and form a coherent sentence.

Vaguely remembered Cal leaving the restaurant with her. Pushing her into a taxi.

_What if he hadn't left with me? Would the taxi driver have dropped me off at a hospital? Or at a street corner? Would that have been my death sentence? _

Thinking back to it made her realize how shockingly easy it had been for someone to take control of her life.

It made her cry and she knew that was an after-effect of the drugs too. That these things messed with your brain chemistry and elicited the kind of emotions that overwhelmed you. Sadness, melancholy, depression, helplessness, fear.

Gillian got up with unsteady legs and slowed washed her hair, letting the water mix with her tears.

_Get a grip. You're going to be okay. Worst is over. _

Stepping out of the shower she wrapped herself in one of the thick, fluffy hotel towels and walked back into the bedroom.

Cal was right when he said that getting some food in would probably help her feel better. But she wasn't ready for it yet.

Gillian dropped the towel on the floor and sank back into the bed, burying herself underneath the thick duvet. At first she couldn't stop shivering because her hair was still wet and she was so damn cold.

But she didn't have the energy to dry her hair either.

Gillian winced when she heard her cell phone ring. She didn't want to answer it. But it could be Cal, needing to tell her something about the case.

Eyes half closed, she picked it up and answered the call.

_"Gillian?" _

"Alec...?"

_"What's going on? I've been trying to reach you all night. I left you messages and then I called Cal and he said you're sick? Is that right?" _

"Yeah...I was."

_"I was worried. I wish you'd returned my messages." _

"I'm sorry...I just...last night I couldn't."

_"You okay now?"_

"Getting there."

_"Good." _

"Look Alec, right now I..."

_"It's just that...I really needed you last night." _

"What?"

_"I went to this work function...and some people there, they started doing lines of coke, so I left the room and I called you. I...just, I really needed to talk to you last night and you didn't pick up." _

She knew what coming next. That he'd tell her did coke last night 'cause she didn't pick up the phone.

_I almost overdosed and you were doing drugs? _

The absurdity of it all made her want to cry.

_"Gill? Are you there?" _

_I am. But I can't have this conversation. Not now. _

_And I hate you for asking me to...I hate you...Cal would never..._

"Look...I'm sorry, Alec. I really was sick."

_"I believe you, it's not that I don't believe you...I just really needed you last night."_

"Why didn't you leave the function?"

_"I couldn't. Not last night. I want to be honest with you. To tell you. To let you know it's not going to happen again." _

_Yeah, it will. _

"One slip doesn't mean you're relapsing."

_"I know." _

"Alec..."

_"What is it?" _

"Can we talk later? I have the worst headache."

_"Yeah...of course." _The disappointment was so heavy in his voice that it laced her with more guilt. "_Get some rest, darling. Hope you feel better. I love you." _

"Bye, Alec."

She started crying again after he hung up.

* * *

><p><em>FBI, New York Field Office<em>

Cal stared at the guy sitting in the interrogation room.

He looked so ridiculously normal. Middle-aged, pale-skin, thinning grey-brown hair and slim build. Had Cal seen him on the street he might've guessed accountant. Or librarian.

Not organized-crime informant.

"So you said you need two interviews to determine whether the guy's lying?" Special Agent Nate Messino asked him. He was staring into the interrogation room along with Cal and his partner, Joey Schmidt.

"Yeah," Cal lied. He didn't but he had to buy himself at least one more day to figure out what he was going to do. "Today's just about establishing a baseline."

"A baseline?"

"In order to read someone when they're lying, I first have to figure out what they look like when they're not lying. Will take about an hour or so," he explained.

"You can do that on your own?"

Cal nodded. "Foster's skills are a little different from mine. It's easier for her to pick up vocal inflections without having a baseline to draw from." He was making it up as he went along and they were swallowing it hook, line and sinker.

"How is Foster?" Special Agent Schmidt asked him.

"I'm sure she'll be fine," Cal told him casually.

"You don't_ know_?"

There was something he caught in the man's face that suddenly sent chills up Cal's spine. He might've expected Nate Messino, the guy who had an obvious crush on Foster to ask about her. But not Joey Schmidt, who barely paid her any attention last night.

And he definitely wasn't expecting the sheer terror her caught in Schmidt's face right now.

_You're scared. Terrified that I didn't actually take her back to the hotel last night. That maybe I didn't get the message from the mob... _

"She mixed her meds with the wine last night," Cal him, not taking his eyes of the man's face now. "Made her feel drowsy. She's got a heart condition. Shouldn't be drinking at all...keep telling her that. But you know how it is.." Cal shrugged his shoulders. "Women. They don't listen."

"She has a..._heart condition_?"

_Gotcha._

"Yeah..." Cal answered casually, hoping his voice didn't give away his shock. Or his sudden, violent desire to punch him in the face. Grateful that neither of them had his skills. Or Foster's.

"Was she...okay when you dropped her off last night?"

"She was pretty out of it. So I just put her to bed."

"You haven't heard from her since?"

Panic. That's what he saw on Schmidt's face now. He might've hidden it from his oblivious partner, Nate, but Cal saw every micro-expression on the man's face and he had to fight back the urge to tackle him right now.

_The only reason you're this terrified is because you know why she got sick yesterday. _

Special Agent Joey Schmidt was the reason they knew exactly how to drug Foster last night. He was the mole. And now he was panicking. Thinking he might've committed murder. So much so that Cal could literally see him start to sweat.

"Nah...figured she was just gonna sleep it off and since I didn't need her this afternoon anyway, why bother her?" He gave Schmidt a slap on the shoulder. "Besides, I'm not her mother."

"She...didn't look so good last night. Maybe we should call her."

Cal squinted and took a step towards him, tilting his head a little as he looked up at him. The FBI agent was nearly a head taller than Cal.

_Not gonna make a difference when I beat the crap out of you._

"Look...I don't have time for this." Cal stuck his hands in his pockets and gave him an annoyed look. Impressed with his own acting skills. "Can we stop talking about my partner and start this interrogation? Haven't got all day."

* * *

><p><em>New York Marriott East Side <em>

Cal knocked first but then didn't wait long before he used one of Foster's keys to enter her hotel room.

She was sitting on the couch in her room, legs curled up underneath her, watching TV.

A smile lit up her face when she saw him. "I thought I put up the 'do not disturb' sign."

"Funny." He plopped himself down next to her, put his feet on the coffee table and rested a hand on her thigh. "Take it you're feeling better."

She nodded and turned off the TV. "I am."

Cal looked at her. Truth was she still looked like death warmed over. He could still see the discomfort written on her face. "You keep any food down?"

"I had two aspirin and half a granola bar from the mini-bar basket."

He smirked. "Breakfast of champions."

"How did it go at the FBI office?" she wanted to know.

Cal pushed himself back off the couch. "Let's talk about it over dinner."

Foster frowned. "I don't think I can..."

"Don't wanna discuss it here," he told her and held out his hand. "We won't go far," he promised her. "Saw a little place that you'll like a block from here."

"Cal?"

"Come on," he reached for her hand and pulled her up. "One block. You can do it."

* * *

><p><em>Later <em>

Gillian watched him eat, or rather,_ devour_, his bowl of ramen, deftly using the chopsticks to put the noodles and pork on his spoon, before dipping the entire thing back into the miso broth and slurping it up. She watched him do it a few times in sequence, entranced by the fluidity of it all. Until Cal put down the spoon and looked up at her.

"Stop watching me and eat your own food," he chided her.

Gillian toyed with the noodles in her bowl. It was the most harmless dish she could have ordered. Noodles with chicken in a clear broth but even so she still had a hard time with it. Had only managed a few bites because the nausea was still there, threatening to send her running to the bathroom. And throwing up here didn't hold a lot of appeal.

"I am," she mumbled, twirling the noodles through the broth with her own chopsticks.

"No, you're not. It's all still there in the bowl."

"Stop nagging."

"You gotta get keep some food down, luv. Don't want you collapsing on me twice in two days. My back can't handle it."

Gillian narrowed her eyes. "Thanks."

His face was serious. "Half the bowl. Don't wimp out on me now."

"Okay, okay..." He had a point. She was ridiculously light-headed and the ten-minute walk to the Japanese noodle house, where they were sitting in a private booth now, had wiped her out. She did need to start keeping some food down. Wasn't going to start feeling better until she did.

"Are you going to tell me what happened at the FBI office?"

"After we eat," he mumbled, his mouth full.

Gillian sighed and drank some of the broth. She wasn't going to win this one.

Fifteen minutes later she did manage to finish more than half the bowl, to Cal's approval.

"That's my girl."

"Tell me what happened with the FBI."

"I interviewed Franco."

"And?"

"He's telling the truth."

Gillian gave her half finished bowl of noodles a little push away from her. That truth made her feel sick again.

"He wants to confess to half a dozen things he saw in the mob, including first degree murder, and he wants out," Cal added.

"We can't tell the FBI he's lying, Cal."

"We also can't tell them he's telling the truth until we've got a back-up plan."

"I won't...condemn this guy to a certain death just because they're threatening me. I _can't_..." she tried to explain. She'd broken the law more than once in the last six years working with Lightman. Had lied to clients and left the scene of a crime but this...this wasn't the same. This was killing a man.

_I couldn't live with myself if we go through with this. _

"Threatening you?" Cal put his elbows on the table and leaned in towards her. "They almost killed you last night! These guys aren't spewing empty threats, Gill."

Gillian swallowed. "It doesn't matter."

"It doesn't matter?" he looked at her incredulously. "Are you kidding me?"

"Cal," she groaned. "That's not what I mean. I'm not trying to be some hero here. Trust me, I'm selfish enough to put my life before Franco's...and this whole thing terrifies me, but I can't do this. I can't condemn another man to die because I'm scared. And I _am _scared."

Cal sighed, his features softening. "Found out something else at the field office today," he told her.

"What?"

"Joey Schmidt is the mob's inside man."

"_What?_ Special Agent Schmidt who had dinner with us last night? _Are you sure_?"

"Yeah."

"How do you know?"

"Got some reactions from him that I wasn't expecting...so I tested him. He's dirty, Gill, and he was scared shitless that he might've killed you last night."

It made her livid, to think that Schmidt was sitting at their table last night, making small talk with them, while he knew exactly what was about to happen.

"If you know for sure, then let's come clean about it all. Let's tell the FBI what happened and tell them what we know. "

"If we were going to come clean about this, we should've done it when it happened. Or as soon as I realized it was Schmidt. Doing it now won't give us a hell of a lot of credibility."

"We were scared and had to consider everything. It's the truth."

"Schmidt will deny it and if he fights our accusation you know our science won't hold up in court."

"But it's good enough for the FBI to use it to determine whether Franco's telling the truth?"

"The FBI already thinks Franco's telling the truth, they just want our science as insurance, " Cal reminded her.

A young Asian server came to take what was left of their food from the table, interrupting their conversation when he handed Cal the bill.

"What other option do we have, besides telling them the truth?"

He fiddled with his paper napkin. "We tell them Franco's lying. While you remind yourself that this guy's an ex-mobster with blood on his hands, one who's leaving a life of crime only out of self-preservation. "

This time she was the one who leaned in towards him. "No."

"At least think about it for five bloody minutes, would you?"

"No."

_Not doing that. Because I might even consider it then. Because I'm really not that brave. _

Cal sighed and Gillian could see the anger and frustration on his face now, not sure whether it was it directed at herself or at their situation.

His hazel-grey eyes met hers. Pensive. "Fine then. _You_ tell me how we're going to get out of this and keep both of you alive."


	50. Last Night Together

**L) Last Night Together **

**A/N:** Big thanks to solveariddle who let me steal one of her beautiful tumblr pics to use as my new cover photo for this story. I didn't love the pic I had before but I love this one. :)

Also, sorry about the crazy long chapter length. But I really wanted to wrap up this story arc rather than drag it out for one more chapter. Huge thanks to those still reading (has it really been FIFTY chapters? I had to look up the Roman numeral for fifty. LOL) and taking the time to let me know what you think!

* * *

><p><em>FBI Field Office, New York, New York <em>

Gillian Foster had spent the last two hours sitting in the interrogation room with Franco, Lightman, the two special agents, Schmidt and Messino, as well as their boss, a no-nonsense African-American woman who'd worn the same unreadable expression the entire time they were in the room.

It was when the woman's face began to swim in her vision, that Gillian excused herself and went to get a drink of water from one of the fountains in the long, drab corridor outside. She'd come a long way from yesterday morning when she barely had the energy to stand up, but truth was, she still didn't feel great.

Agents wearing FBI badges walked by her as she leaned against the wall, stealing quick curious glances at her "visitor" badge. Gillian closed her eyes for a second, wondering what the point of this whole interrogation was.

_It's a stall tactic, _she answered her own question. _Because we have no idea what the hell we're going to do. _

Half of Lightman's questions for Franco were irrelevant and redundant. Part of her didn't even want to bother going back into the room. It was hard to focus on the interrogation when she had to channel every ounce of energy she had into pretending she didn't want to murder Special Agent Joey Schmidt with her bare hands.

"You alright, Dr. Foster?"

Gillian almost jumped out of her skin when she saw Special Agent Nate Messino suddenly standing next to her in the corridor.

"Yeah...fine."

"You were looking a little grey in there. Was kinda worried. So I followed you out."

Gillian eyed him, searching his face and voice for traces of deception. She didn't trust him either, not after what they now knew about his partner. But all she saw was genuine concern.

"I'm fine, thanks. Just needed to get a drink of water."

"Lightman told us..."

She raised her brows.

"About your heart condition."

"Really? He did?"

"It's not something you should feel like you have to hide," Nate told her with well practised sincerity. "My twenty-year old niece was born with a heart defect. Hasn't slowed her down one bit. She's amazing."

"I, uh...I bet she is." _Heart condition, Cal? Really? _

"You know, I feel bad you didn't get to enjoy last night's dinner. Any chance I can make up for it tonight? Take you somewhere nice...maybe something healthy, vegetarian?"

Gillian didn't know what to say. She could've sworn she saw him winking at her. "Look, I'm... flattered. But I'm also...married." For a second she glanced down at her hand to make sure her wedding band was still there. Double-checking that Cal hadn't removed it along with her dress two nights ago.

Special Agent Nate Messino pursed his lips, and she could see that he was stung by the rejection. Clearly, it didn't happen often. "Right. Of course. I'm sorry...didn't mean any offense."

Gillian nodded. "No offense taken. Really."

He gestured down the corridor. "Shall we head back inside?"

"Give me a minute." She wasn't quite ready to be back in that stifling room, where she had to look Franco in the eye while deciding what they would do to keep him alive.

* * *

><p><em>Later<em>

She was alone in the elevator with Cal, both of them ready to leave the building.

Lightman had somehow convinced the FBI that they needed to go over videotape of the interrogation one more time before he could give them a definitive analysis. Gillian was mildly surprised that they'd agreed, without accusing them of being the most incompetent deception experts they'd ever worked with. They probably hadn't worked with a lot of others.

"You know, next time you tell people I have a chronic illness maybe you could fill me in on it."

He looked at her, "Huh?"

"Heart condition?"

"Right. Sorry." He smirked a little. "S'alright though. You played the part pretty well. Couple of times I thought you were close to passing out in there today."

The elevator ride took forever and Gillian started biting one of her nails. An old nervous habit she rarely ever fell back into. "It's great that you're able to find something funny in all this."

"Isn't it?"

They walked out of the building into a city that was basking in the warmth and blue skies of summer.

"You keep any food down today?" Cal asked her.

"What does _that_ matter right now?"

He put on his sunglasses. "Judging from how irritable you are, I take it that's a no."

"Cal?" Gillian looked at him incredulously, squinting in the brightness of the afternoon sun because she couldn't be bothered to dig for her sunglasses in her purse. It was hard keeping up with his pace. "Can we be serious for two seconds? What the hell are we going to tell the FBI?"

"I have a plan."

"You have a plan?" Gillian stopped following him and put her hands on her hips, in the middle of the sidewalk. "Were you going to tell me what it is?"

He turned around and stopped as well. "No."

"No?"

"No," he repeated. "Because you're not gonna approve."

_Great. _

He suddenly stuck his arm out into the rush hour traffic, hailing a taxi.

"Cal...what are you doing?"

A yellow cab pulled up alongside the curb and Cal got into it. Gillian was about to follow suit, until he pressed a flat palm against her midsection and gave her a little push. "You're not coming with me."

"What? Why not?"

"You can't help me with this," he explained matter-of-factly. "Go back to the hotel. I'll meet you there in a couple of hours."

"Cal..._come on_," she pleaded. "What are you doing?"

"I'll let you know. But not now. Go back to the hotel, luv. I'll see you there."

"Will you at least tell me where you're going?"

He answered by slamming the taxi door shut.

_That's a no then. _

Gillian watched as the car turned left at the first intersection, shaking her head in disbelief, angry and worried all at once.

_You are unbelievable. And I swear to god, I hope you know what you're doing. _

* * *

><p><em>Long Island, NY <em>

Cal Lightman had been sitting in his parked rental car for nearly an hour when he finally spotted the vehicle he was looking for.

As soon as he got the address, he took a cab to a car rental company, rented a car and drove out here.

He figured that would give him a little time to think about a strategy that went beyond pouncing on Joey Schmidt the first chance he got.

He chewed on his lips when he saw Schmidt's wife and their two young kids coming home and entering the house before him.

_This is not good. I don't want an audience. _

Cal got out of the car and started walking around the block to check out the neighbourhood. It was full of identical cookie-cutter homes, white picket fences and manicured lawns. The kind of soul-gutting, homogenized suburbia that would do anyone's head in after a while.

_No wonder you became a mole for the mafia. It was either that or internet porn, wasn't it? _

One house, two doors down had an over-stuffed mailbox and a pile of flyers on the doorstep. Its occupants had been away at least a few days and it was next to a fenced walk-way that Cal hadn't seen used by a single pedestrian in the last hour.

_Looks like that's where we'll have our meeting. _

Cal paced a little longer than he needed to. Normally this sort of thing didn't make him nervous. But tonight was different. Too much was riding on this.

Finally he saw Joey Schmidt's car pull up into his driveway.

Schmidt spotted him right away and the Special Agent was understandably perturbed by his presence.

"Dr. Lightman," he addressed him as soon as he got out of the car. "What are you doing here? How do you even know where I live?"

"My company has a contract with the FBI. Means I have access to some of the same sources that you do."

"I don't understand..." The unease was written all over the tall man's face. He towered over Cal when they walked alongside each other. "What can I do for you, Dr. Lightman?"

"I've got a problem," he explained, making a point to look distressed. Frazzled. "A big problem and I need your help."

"What kind of problem?" he asked. Without realizing it, Cal was leading them away from Schmidt's house. Towards the one with the absent vacationers.

Cal took a few, short nervous steps. Trying to make Schmidt believe he was seeing him because of the threats he got from the mob.

It was getting dark and the narrow pedestrian walk-way beside the empty house was poorly lit. No wonder no one was using it. People didn't walk in the suburbs anyway.

"I don't want anyone to hear us," he explained as he led them both into the deserted path.

"Dr. Lightman, what is this about?"

_Damn...you're such a lousy actor. _

Before he could ask another question, Cal swung his fist at him, so hard and fast that the guy barely had a chance to react before his head was whacked backwards into the fence. And as soon as he did react, Cal landed a second punch right on his nose and that one was hard enough to nearly knock him off his feet.

It was the one thing Cal had going for him. The element of surprise.

He almost got in a third punch but this time Special Agent Schmidt reacted and got in one of his own, right into the solar plexus, throwing Cal against the brick wall behind him.

But as soon as he rebounded, Cal did land that third punch, a side-jab right into his temple. It shut the tall man's eyes and sent him down to his knees.

Even so he, fought back and this time Cal took an upper-cut to the jaw that left his ears ringing and filled his mouth with the metallic taste of blood.

The FBI agent was taller, stronger and better trained and had it not been for the first two punches, Cal would have lost this one in seconds. But because of them he kept at it, striking relentlessly every chance he got until finally he had him pinned to the ground, lying on the concrete sidewalk, in obvious pain.

All the fist fights he'd gotten into as a teen were serving him well right now.

There was blood dripping from Cal's face too, right onto the agent's black suit, little drops of it, staying the white collar of his shirt. But he was oblivious to it, the adrenaline running much too high to feel anything but sheer satisfaction.

"_That_," he explained. "Was for what you did to my partner, you dirty, filthy piece of..."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, you psycho!"

"_Don't_..." Cal hissed. "Even try."

Schmidt's bloodied face hesitated for a second before he decided not to bother. At least he wasn't that stupid to think he could try to deceive him.

"What do you want from me?"

"You..." Cal couldn't catch his breath. "Are going to help me keep Franco and Foster alive."

* * *

><p><em>Marriott East Side, New York City <em>

Gillian Foster sat on the couch in her room and picked up her cell phone again, turning it on to leave a third message.

"Cal...you said two hours, it's been almost four. What the hell are you..."

She hadn't finished her sentence yet when she heard a knock on the door.

Gillian tossed the phone onto the couch and jumped to open the door. As soon as she saw it was Cal she undid the security latch and moved a hand to her mouth in shock.

"Oh my god..."

His face was a mess. Bloodied and bruised, with one eye closed shut, nestling inside what would soon be a massive bruise. One of Cal's arms was draped around his ribs and the other one held a plastic bag from a nearby pharmacy.

"_What happened to you_?" Her words came out in a whisper as she held on to one of his arms and led him to her couch.

"Went to see Special Agent Joey Schmidt."

"And you decided to beat each other up? _That_ was your big plan?" Gillian looked at him with stunned disbelief. "You're right...I wouldn't have approved."

He winced when he sat down, pain etched all over his face when she helped him out of his suit jacket. One of the sleeves on his shirt had a tear that ran from the wrist to his elbow.

"Little more to it than that." Cal handed her the plastic bag he'd been holding. "Bought a first aid kit on the way back. Thought maybe you could help..."

Gillian didn't let him finish, she was already taking it out of the bag, ripping off the plastic seal on it. It was hard to look at his face and hard to turn away. Blood was filling the creases on his face, criss-crossing it in a macabre pattern of red, jagged lines.

"Don't move," she told him, getting up to wet a facecloth with warm water in the bathroom. Soaking it in the empty ice bucket that was next to the TV before taking it back out to where Cal was sitting.

She didn't say anything while starting to fix up the mess that was his face with careful, gentle precision.

"It's not what you think..." he started but Gillian put an index finger on his lips.

"After," she said quietly. "Can't do this if you're talking and fidgeting."

He did as she asked and aside from the occasional wince when she dabbed a little too hard, Cal didn't say much either. At one point his eyes met hers and they lingered there for a few seconds longer than either of them intended before Gillian turned her attention back to the cuts and bruises that covered him. Gratitude was what she saw in them. That and something else she wasn't quite ready to acknowledge.

The ice bucket she'd filled with warm water soon turned a crimson colour, so Gillian got up, emptied it, grabbed a clean facecloth and started the whole process again, squeezing out more ointment from the now half-empty tube.

There was one last cut on his face that she'd missed, that was still bleeding. She took her time fixing it, gently pressing a large band-aid against his skin when she was done, careful to avoid the cut itself before she examined the features of his familiar face. She was relieved to see that he was starting to look human again. Aside from the ghastly swelling around his left eye. That one would take more than her care. It would take time. A couple weeks, probably, she guessed.

There was a bottle of ibuprofen tablets in the first aid it too. Gillian opened it and poured two into the palm of his hands as she handed him a glass of water.

He swallowed them wordlessly and when he did, she noticed that he still had one arm draped around his ribs.

Her fingers started unbuttoning his shirt.

"Hey, hey...hands off," he protested, grabbing her hand. "Nice try, Foster."

Gillian rolled her eyes. "You're hurt. Let me see."

"Last time I checked you're not a medical doctor."

"Cal?"

He raised his arms. "I'm fine, Gill. "

"No, you're not," she shot back. She was even angrier when she did manage to undo his shirt and saw the darkening bruise on his ribs. "This is crazy...me patching you up with a cheap first aid kit! You could be bleeding internally. I'm taking you to a hospital."

"No, you're not."

Gillian's fingers trailed along his bruised ribs, along the warmth of his skin, suddenly grateful that she could feel the beating of his heart underneath them. Resting them there until she felt his fingers wrap themselves around her wrist, gently taking her hand and cupping it inside both of his. As if he knew that she needed to feel his skin against hers.

Her heart was pounding and what her body was craving now gave her goose bumps. She forced herself to turn away from him, not wanting to risk him seeing all the things she felt.

"Your hands are a little shaky, doc," he whispered.

"What the hell were you thinking?" she demanded once she dared to meet his eyes again. "If anything happened to you..." Gillian didn't finish the sentence, not willing to go there. Or even think of it.

"Got into a fight, luv. That's all. Wasn't the first time and it won't be the last."

Gillian nodded, not trusting her voice right now. Or appreciating his honesty.

"Hey...I'm gonna live. And in a few days I'm sure I'll do something that'll make you regret that."

_Never. _

"You know..." Gillian smiled a lop-sided smile. "When you pull stunts like this. It's really not good for my heart condition."

Cal looked at her, puzzled just for an instant, before he started to laugh. "Don't...don't do that. Don't make me laugh."

"Serves you right," she mumbled.

One of his hands was still holding hers. Apparently he didn't want to let go anymore than she did.

"Are you... going to tell me what the point of this fist fight was?"

"It occurred to me this morning," Cal told her. "That once I found out that Joey was the mole,_ that_ was our leverage right there. That we didn't even need to tell the FBI what we knew. All we have to do is tell _him _that we know."

"I'm not following you."

"You think Special Agent Joey can risk being found out? The second the mob thinks he's no longer useful they'll kill him. And if the FBI finds out he'll spend the rest of his life scrubbing toilets in prison. If some offended cell mate doesn't kill him first."

"So...you're going to turn the tables and blackmail _him_ into making sure Franco stays alive?"

"Basically."

"Basically?"

"Brilliant, isn't it?"

Gillian narrowed her brows. Brilliant wasn't the word she was thinking of. "But how...can you make sure he keeps his part of the bargain? Does he even have the resources to keep Franco alive?"

"You don't think with all my connections I can keep tabs on one guy staying alive? And you don't think with his own life is on the line, he'll find a way? If anyone can keep the mob's hands of Franco, it's the mole who's working for them."

"I'm more concerned about you staying alive!" Gillian told him. "What makes you think Schmidt won't just decide to kill you to solve the problem?"

"Because if he kills me the Lightman Group sends the FBI a tape where Schmidt confesses he works for the mob."

"What? You actually got him to confess that..._on tape_?"

"Yeah..." Cal pointed to his smart phone. "After I cracked two of his ribs. One copy's already in your inbox, another one's with our company lawyer."

Gillian winced. "You broke two of his ribs?"

"That part was particularly satisfying."

_No wonder your face looks like something out of horror film. _

"I'm starting to think this FBI contract was the worst idea we ever had."

"It did get off to a lousy start," Cal agreed.

Gillian contemplated what it all meant.

"So we tell the FBI that Franco's lying. Which means his testimony is worthless and we help a bunch of criminals get away with murder. All while we turn a blind eye to Schmidt sabotaging them from inside..." Gillian shook her head. "It's madness, Cal."

"We said we're gonna find a way to keep you and Franco alive. I found a way."

Gillian turned to him, wishing he'd have found another way. Wishing that he'd feel as guilty about it all as she did. But there was neither guilt nor regret on his messed-up face. Determination was the only thing she saw.

"You got a better plan, you lemme know, otherwise we're sticking with this one."

"Let's come clean about everything...what they did to me, about Schmidt..."

"No," he cut her off. "Not an option."

"Cal..."

"No," he was adamant. "There's some risks I'm not willing to take."

His one good eye kept looking at her and it was only then that Gillian noticed his hand was still linked with hers. It shouldn't have felt as good and as perfectly natural for him to hold on to it as long as he did.

"I won't," he repeated. Making it clear that she wouldn't win this one.

Gillian nodded. "Okay."

"Know what you're thinking," he told her. "I can see it."

Of course he could.

"You hate what we're doing. Don't like it either. We lost a battle here, a big one," he admitted. "But we're gonna lose it so we can keep fighting the war. So I can keep fighting it with you."

Exhaling, she slowly slid her hand out of his. Feeling guilty for not wanting to let go, on top of all the other guilt she felt at the moment.

"I'll put together a report for the FBI," she said softly. "Find a way to make our science fit the lies we're going to tell them."

It was the least she could do after everything he'd done for her.

* * *

><p><em>Later <em>

It was late. Almost midnight. He should have been sleeping by now but no matter how many pillows he'd put on his bed to cushion his body, Cal still couldn't get comfortable.

So he gave up trying and turned on the TV, hoping he'd find something so mind-numbingly boring it might lull him into some sort of stupor.

They'd should've flown back to DC tonight but by the time Foster put the report together for the FBI it was late and they were about to miss their flight. And truthfully, neither of them were in any shape or the mood be sitting at LaGuardia hoping for a stand-by seat.

Dinner had been a hot dog from a vendor. He ate it in silence on bench in Central Park, next to a sombre Gillian.

"What a god-awful case," Cal mumbled to himself. Instead of helping the FBI, they'd helped sabotage their case against the mob, Foster could've gotten killed and his face was such a mess he'd be unable to work with clients for at least a week.

Cal reached for his second bottle from the mini-bar. A miniature version of the same scotch he had in his office. He figured that would help dull his pain better than the tablets in his cheap first aid kit.

Suddenly he heard a pounding on his hotel door and it made his heart race.

"Go away," he yelled. "Didn't order it and don't want it."

"It's me!"

Cal recognized Foster's voice from the other side.

He winced when he got up. "Foster, it's bloody midnight..." he mumbled as he slowly made his way to the door. He looked through the peephole half-afraid that someone was holding a knife to her neck. _That's_ how paranoid this case was making him.

"Hi," was all she said when he swung it open and saw her standing in the hallway wearing a white hotel bathrobe with matching slippers.

"Everything alright?" he asked her because he couldn't tell by looking at her.

"Yeah...everything's alright."

"Come on in," he gestured for her to come inside. Obviously everything wasn't alright if she was knocking on his hotel room door at midnight.

"I couldn't sleep," she admitted. "And I was worried that maybe...are you okay?"

"I feel like shit but I haven't died of internal bleeding yet, if that's what you're worried about."

Gillian frowned. "That's not funny."

He chuckled. "Ah come on...just a little. Admit it."

"No. Not even a little."

He focused on her face, making a second attempt to read her.

"You could just ask, you know," she chided him.

Cal smirked. Funny how she could that. Turn his irritation into amusement from one minute to the next. "I did. But then you answered with a lie."

He saw a bit of amusement in her eyes and that made him happy too. That he still had that effect on her. Even after all these years of working together.

"I'm okay," she told him. "Just... didn't want to be alone tonight. I keep thinking about what we did."

Of course she would. It's why he loved her. Because she had a heart and a conscience and she wore both of them on her sleeve.

"And after what happened..." Foster paused, embarrassed. "I'm scared to fall asleep...I know, I know it sounds ridiculous. But it terrifies me. The thought of falling asleep and not waking up."

Cal chewed the inside of his cheek wondering if he'd really hurt Schmidt enough for what he'd done to Foster. Thinking now that two cracked ribs, a broken nose and a busted lip probably wasn't payback enough.

"It'll pass, I know."

Cal put an arm around her shoulders. She was such a perfect height for him. "You don't have to explain." He gestured to his king sized bed. "Stay here. There's enough space for four people in that thing."

He gingerly made his way back into the bed. Tossing back the covers and taking one of the pillows from his mound and throwing it to Foster.

"If you want more you'll have to bring them from your room. I'm injured."

Foster gave him one of those beautiful smiles that lit up her entire face and that he hadn't seen much of lately. "One's good."

She settled into the bed, inching much closer to his side of it than Cal thought she would.

"You sure you don't mind?"

_No. Never. _

"This...it's not...awkward, is it? Come to think of it...it is, isn't it?"

_You sleeping in my bed? Have a feeling your husband might think so._

Foster's expression made him wonder whether she'd suddenly come to the same realization. "What in the world was I thinking?"

"Gill?"

"What?"

"Stop it."

"I shouldn't be here..."

"After everything that's happened in the last two days, _this_...you, coming here 'cause you need some company, is...perfectly bloody normal. Could use some company myself."

"You sure?"

_Hell yes. _

"Did you talk to Alec?" he asked her, trying in vain to get comfortable again. The TV was still on too, but he'd turned down the volume. If he thought that Foster wanted to talk he'd have turned it off, but he knew her better than that. Even though there were moments when she needed him and needed to be close to him, like now, there was still so much she wouldn't confide in him. Especially when it concerned her husband.

"Yeah, he called."

"You tell him what happened?"

"No."

Her fingers fiddled with the belt on her bathrobe, while her eyes stared at the wall.

"You want to tell him?" Cal asked.

_If you were my wife I'd wanna know. _

"If I tell him what happened to me, I'd have to tell him the rest too," Gillian explained. "I can't really do that, can I?"

_You could if you felt like you could trust him to keep his mouth shut. _

_Except I don't. And apparently neither do you. _

Truthfully, Cal was glad she hadn't told Alec. He didn't trust the guy not to do something stupid with the information.

"Probably for the best," he agreed. He held up one of the mini-bar bottles and offered her one but Gillian declined with a shake of her head. "Fine then. More for me."

She yawned and stole another pillow from his mound.

"Hey!"

"I can't see the TV when I'm lying down with one."

"You said one was enough."

Her lips curled into another smile. "I lied and you didn't even see it. Then again, you can barely see out of one of your eyes. Won't hold it against you this time."

_Funny. _

She yawned again. "What are we watching?"

"You're not getting the remote."

She giggled. "I don't want it. Knock yourself out."

That was the truth. Foster was so tired she wouldn't last long.

And she didn't. Didn't even make it through the first set of commercials of the cop show they were watching.

She turned sideways in her sleep, towards him, inching well into his half of the huge bed. The bath robe she still wore slid off one of her shoulders, exposing the beige silk top she wore underneath.

It didn't exactly compare to the red lace underwear he'd seen her in two nights ago that he still couldn't get out of his mind. Like this morning, in the interrogation room at the FBI, when at one point he lost interest in Franco and wondered if she was wearing something similar underneath her navy suit. Still, what she wore now was enticing enough that he suddenly found himself watching her instead of the TV.

He observed the subtle rise and fall of her chest, and the way it slowly inched the spaghetti strap off her bare shoulder. The way the curls draped around her slender neck, making him want to brush them aside for a better view.

His breathing quickened in response to what he saw and he had to fight back his desires.

The urge to move closer and touch her was so strong it almost overwhelmed him.

_I want to touch you. Kiss you. Undress you. Hold you. Make love you to you. _

_All of it. _

_I want you. _

Cal swallowed, stunned by all the things he was feeling. Things he didn't have a right to feel.

He turned off the TV and the lights. It plunged him into darkness so that all he could hear was the harsh, rapid intake of his own breath.

He'd loved Foster for some time now. Just as she loved him.

But this... this was different.

_I'm falling in love with you. And it needs to stop. _

Cal had a gut feeling that Foster's marriage wouldn't last much longer. If he were to take a guess he'd give it a year or so.

_But I'm not gonna be the one who breaks it apart. If you and me...if it happens, and damn I'd be lying if I said I didn't want it to... then I want you to come to me 'cause you want it too. 'Cause you want me, not 'cause you're running from him. _

Even though it was painful, Cal turned on his side, away from her. Away from all the things that would tempt him if he were to look the other way.

There were so many things that had brought them closer in the last couple of years. His divorce. Her losing Sophie. It was time to take a turn in the opposite direction. To find a another natural for the group. To train Loker so they could work on separate cases more often. It was time to put some distance between them again.

_Because if we don't, I'm gonna do something stupid. Like grab you and kiss you and never let go. _


	51. Back to the Beginning

**LI) Back to the Beginning **

**A/N: **Huge thanks to those to those who stuck around for the entire journey (pun totally intended), all 51 chapters of it. Your thoughts, feedback and encouragement meant the world. Can't lie and say I actually accomplished what I planned to do when I originally started writing this, that is, master the art of brevity, as the chapters, along with the story, kept getting longer and longer. But I did end up with a story that I had an awful lot of fun writing and one that made me fall in love with the characters all over again. It's even sweeter to know others enjoyed it as well.

For those that have asked me about my other fic, Shattered, first of all, apologies for putting that one on hiatus with no notice. I haven't abandoned it. Life just got a little too crazy for a while to write two fics at once. I have every intention to go back to it, focus on it and hopefully figure out where exactly it'll go in the near future. So many thanks for your patience on that front!

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Group Offices, Washington DC <em>

"You know, the least she could do when she's this late is let me know."

Emily wrinkled her nose. "Do you want me to call her?"

"No," Cal shot back. "Your mother's the one who needs to call. Not me. Not you. If she's not coming in the next thirty minutes you're spending the weekend with me."

Emily sighed. "I'm gonna go see what Loker's doing."

That was her way of saying he was driving her nuts and she needed to get out of his office, out of his space and plug in her headphones. Or text a friend. Or do whatever it was that teenagers did the second they were out of their parents' sight.

Emily probably couldn't care less what Loker was doing.

Cal promptly ignored his own advice and picked up the phone to call Zoe. And of course he got her voicemail.

"It's six-thirty, Zoe. I rushed out of the office at four o'clock so I could grab a bite with my daughter for an hour 'cause you said you'd be here at five. And now it's six-thirty and I'm still waiting for you...and if you don't show up in the next thirty minutes, don't bother. She's staying with me for the weekend."

Emily should have been staying with him for the weekend anyway. But somehow once a month or so Zoe convinced him that she should get one of his weekend too. On top of the five days a week that she already had their daughter. She really had no right and she knew it. But there was always some trip or family gathering that Zoe insisted Emily would love to attend. Insisted it's what their daughter wanted and of course that was his Achilles Heel. Telling him it was what Emily wanted.

Besides, it's what Zoe did. She pushed the envelope. Always did. Always would.

And so he caved. Every single time. Because Cal didn't want to make things worse between them than they already were. Because the thought of running off to his lawyer and laying down the law made him feel dirty.

It didn't help that Foster was out of the office all week. Meaning he'd been without the one person who'd have put things in perspective for him, calmed him down and let him vent.

Even worse, it was his fault she was away. He was the one who'd suggested she go to that pointless conference in Atlanta. Because Cal was determined to stick to the plans he made in New York City two months ago.

He was determined to put some distance between them. At least for now. Until he started dating someone else. Or, preferably, until she divorced her loser husband.

She'd texted him from Atlanta.

_-Are you sure this thing is a good idea for the Group? I could've sworn my last seminar was run by a guy pitching a pyramid scheme. He went on about some weird fruit juice. _

Her text made him grin.

_-Skip out on the rest then._

_-But we paid for this! _

Screw the conference, was what he wanted to tell her. Go have some fun. Put on a bikini and have mojitos by the hotel pool.

Never mind that it really was ludicrous to send her to a conference on the growth potential of investigative businesses at a time when the Lightman Group was doing ridiculously well. They made a record profit this year. Bought new equipment and hired three more staff members without so much as putting as dent in their operating budget. Even the mayor had him on speed dial now.

But Cal didn't remind her of any of that, 'cause he knew it would've been pointless. She knew their finances better than he did.

Foster would go and listen and take notes. 'Cause that was the right thing to do and that's what she did.

Meanwhile, his mind conjured up images of her in a bikini by the pool. He pictured the curves and lines of her gorgeous body, which he'd already memorised after seeing them only once. He thought about that exotic tattoo above her hipbone that he was still dying to ask her about. But probably never would.

_And that's exactly why I sent you to Atlanta. Because, two months later, my mind still goes there when I look at you. Or think about you. _

Cal sighed.

When the hell was Zoe going to show up?

* * *

><p><em>Later <em>

The corridor was dimly lit by the time Gillian Foster made it back to the office. It was well after six o'clock and most of their employees were already gone for the day, although when she walked by the lab she spotted Eli Loker sitting hunched over a computer screen.

"Hi Loker," she called out from the hallway.

It was enough to get his attention and turn his head in her direction. He gave her a a loopy smile when she peeked into the lab.

"What are you still doing here? Is Lightman pilling on the work again? I can talk to him you know."

"Nah...if I wanted to leave, I'd tell him."

_Good point_.

"How was Atlanta?" he asked.

"Hot." In fact it was so hot and humid and unbearable there that coming back to the stifling DC summer had felt like stepping into spring breeze.

"And the conference?"

"It was good," she lied. Because telling Eli Loker that it was the most boring thing she'd ever attended would've made her feel disloyal to Lightman.

"Hi Gillian!"

Gillian hadn't realized that figure she spotted in the distance was Cal's daughter. She hadn't seen her in over three months and the sight of her brought a huge smile to her face, making her inadvertently forget about Loker.

"Emily!"

The young woman approached her, gave her a hug and Gillian held on tight for a long moment. "How are you doing, sweetie?" The psychologist in her wondered how she was coping with her parents' divorce and the joint custody but another part of her just wanted to know what she was reading and watching these days and whether she'd started dating.

Emily grinned, genuinely happy to see her too. "I'm good. Came here to see Dad and grab some food with him."

_If I'd known I'd have taken an earlier flight and joined you. It's been too long. _

"Did he at least take you somewhere with good desserts?"

"He did!" Emily exclaimed. "It's like you finally rubbed off on..."

"Hi there," a third voice cut in and Gillian suddenly saw Zoe Landau standing next to her.

_Really? _

Gillian had to fight back her disappointment so it wasn't glaringly obvious. _I can't even have a one minute conversation with her? _

She mustered a polite smile. "Zoe...how nice to see you here."

Zoe responded with a smile that was every bit as insincere as her own. "Gillian. Pleasure. As always. Should I be surprised you're still here at seven o'clock at night? Then again, you and Cal always do work around the clock, don't you? No wonder the Group is doing so well."

Gillian's mouth hung open, dumbfounded and at a loss for words. Was that a jab Zoe had lobbed at her right now or was she imagining it?

Emily saved her the trouble of answering. "Hi, Mom. Want me to tell Dad you're here?"

"That's okay," Zoe told her. "I'll tell him myself. Do you have your stuff ready to go? I'll be back in a sec."

And with that Zoe Landau took off towards Cal's office without so much as another word.

Funny, Gillian thought, biting her lip. No one else had quite the same ability to make her feel as small as Zoe always did.

Her thoughts went back in time. To their very first encounter inside the ladies room of their original offices. To the water she'd accidentally poured all over Zoe's cell phone.

_- "Look...my husband works here. I'll have him contact your employer and take care of it that way." _

_"My employer?" _

_"The cleaning company you work for; I'm sure they have insurance for these sort of...accidents." _

_"Cleaning company?"- _

That's how it began between her and Zoe. And things hadn't improved much since then.

Gillian caught Emily looking at her, taking in everything with her extraordinary perception, as she always did

"I think I should probably go with her," Emily told her.

Gillian nodded. "Yeah."

"Before they start throwing stuff at each other."

"Right," she agreed with a defeated smile. "Was good to see you, Em. Come around a bit more often, okay?"

"I'll try. Bye Gillian."

She watched the teenager walk towards Cal's office and it suddenly felt like a lifetime ago when she stepped into Cal's house and met Emily Lightman for the first time. When she was still a preteen, shy and young, baking in her father's kitchen, with bits of cookie dough stuck in her hair.

* * *

><p><em>Later <em>

Cal Lightman was fuming.

She could see it the second she dared to poke her head into his office.

"Went that well, did it?"

"You know what kills me, Foster?"

_Good to see you too. _

"What kills you?"

"That she can waltz in here ninety minutes late to take Em on a weekend that she's not even supposed to have her and then try to make _me _feel guilty about some stupidly ridiculous little thing."

"What is she making you feel guilty about?"

"That fact that _you're_ here at seven o'clock at night!"

_So I wasn't imagining it after all._

"What the bloody hell does it matter to her? Since we started this company together Zoe's had this ridiculous idea that we're having an affair. It's even more ridiculous now that we're divorced! Because even if I did decide to sleep with my staff it's none of her goddamn business!"

Gillian's eyes widened and Cal caught it. Of course.

"You know what I mean, right?"

"Right. I'm your partner, by the way. Not your staff. We should clarify this before we have an affair."

"Funny." He exhaled and loosened his tie. "She drives me crazy."

_It's because you're still in love with her. _

Gillian didn't want to talk about Zoe Landau. "It was nice to see Emily. You should bring her around more often. Or maybe you, me, Alec and her can go for dinner together sometime. I miss her."

"Sure," he shrugged, not thrilled by the idea. "How come you're here anyway? Why not go home after you got back to DC?"

Gillian sat down across from him and slipped out of her heels. That felt heavenly, especially now that she realized she'd worn them since breakfast this morning.

"Why do you wear those things when it feels _that _good to get out of them?"

Gillian smiled. "Because I'm short?"

"You sayin' I should wear them?"

Visions of him in a pair of her patent-leather pumps made her grin. "You're an idiot. And to answer your question, I came by because I wanted to drop off some things in my office. But it's good that you're here. I wanted to tell you that I think I might have found us a new natural."

Cal straightened his back, suddenly interested.

"You know that TSA Deception Diagnostic you created? Her score on that test was off the charts. Perfect. According to your own criteria only naturals are capable of perfect scores."

"And who's this person?"

"Her name is Ria Torres. She's a baggage screener at Dulles."

"Remind me to test her then." She knew he had a speaking engagement at the Department of Homeland Security on Monday morning but there'd be time to visit Torres afterwards.

"Oh, I will." Gillian reached into her purse and took out a grapefruit and put it on his desk. "I brought you something."

"You brought me a grapefruit? Thought peaches was the thing in Georgia?"

"One of the seminars I went to, the speaker, he wanted us to think of one tangible thing that represents our business. And I had a hard time with that. So much of our science, it's not tangible. I thought maybe the Cube because it's such an invaluable tool for us but then this morning, I stopped by a grocery store near my hotel and I saw these grapefruit and..."

"Why in the world would a grapefruit make you think of the Lightman Group?"

"Remember that day, almost seven years ago, when you came out of the supermarket and put your grocery bags down in the parking space?"

"And you ran over them."

"I still remember rolling down my window and hearing this...squishing sound."

"Of your tire running over my grapefruit." Now it was starting to make sense.

Gillian gave the grapefruit a little push, so it rolled towards him, forcing Cal to grab it so it wouldn't fall off his desk. "We where never supposed to meet again after we left the Pentagon," she told him. "That we did that day in the parking lot, that was pure chance."

He chuckled. "Chance and you being a lousy driver."

"Hey!"

He fiddled with the grapefruit. "I don't even like these things."

"Then why...?"

"Zoe. She likes them for breakfast."

Gillian nodded. "Ah." _Of course._

"If you hadn't run over my groceries that day you wouldn't have felt the need to buy me a coffee after. We wouldn't have started talking about turning my science into a business." He looked almost pensive now. "And then we wouldn't be sitting here across from each other right now. Seven years later. In our posh new office."

Gillian nodded. "Something like that."

"A grapefruit. Alright then."

"Can you think of something better?"

He raised his brows. "Well, there is the book that I wrote. The one my science is based on."

Gillian blushed. Lightman's book. Of course. How in the world hadn't that occurred to her? It was the book that gave his science the credibility it needed. The one that some of their employees had read three times. The one on which their entire business was based. How could she have forgotten something so obvious? It made her choice seem even more ridiculous and sentimental than it already was.

"Don't mean for all the obvious reasons, luv," he told her, clearly reading the tells of disappointment on her face. "I'd pick the book 'cause you had it in your office that day at the Pentagon when I came to see you."

Gillian didn't understand. "What do you mean?"

"Won't lie and say I wasn't pissed about them making me see a shrink after I screwed up the Doyle case. You see, my Mum, she went through half a dozen shrinks before she killed herself. She told me once that all they ever saw and wanted to know about was her depression. None of them ever bothered to find out about the rest of her. And there was a hell of a lot more to her than the illness that killed her, you know? It was just one part of her, not the sum of her."

"I know..." Gillian acknowledged. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too," Cal agreed. "Didn't leave me with a lot of faith in your lot."

"So you were dragged into my office kicking and screaming."

He chuckled. "Pretty much." He leaned forward onto his elbows. "But the fact that you had my book there. That you were interested in my science and my ideas, not just my screw-ups...made me think that maybe you were different. It made me go back for a second and a third session, instead of telling my bosses they could stick your therapy up their..."

She smiled. "Got it."

"That's why I pick the book," he reiterated. "Cause you had it in your office. 'Cause seeing it there made me think that maybe you're someone who's capable of seeing more than what's right in front of you. Never have asked you to be my partner if I didn't think that."

"Here I thought I was the sentimental one."

"You are," he told her, pushing off his chair and getting up. "What are we still doing here at seven o'clock on a Friday night? Don't you have a husband to get home to?"

"Alec's got a dinner meeting tonight."

"Course he does."

The disdain in Lightman's voice when he talked about Alec these days was so painfully obvious. He didn't even try to mask it anymore, like he used to in the beginning. Not that she hadn't heard it then too.

"I told him he has to get business out of the way today, 'cause I'm claiming him for the weekend," she explained.

"Ah yeah? What's the occasion?"

"It's my birthday tomorrow. He's going to take me somewhere nice."

"Tomorrow?" Cal did a double take. "Already? Wasn't it a few months ago? How do I always forget this?"

She slapped his arm as she slipped back into her heels and stood up. "On purpose. That's how."

"Not true."

"Don't lie to me." Gillian hooked her arm into his. "But you can buy me a drink tonight to make up for it."

"I can?"

Her eyes scanned his familiar face and for a change she was the one who couldn't read him. Or more so, couldn't understand what she saw. Conflict. Hesitation. _Yearning_.

The case in New York City had affected both of them deeply. It had changed them but neither of them had been willing to reach out to the other to admit it. Physically they were fine. She had no lingering ill effects from the drugs they gave her and his face had healed well after his fist fight with Special Agent Schmidt. Even the last cuts and bruises had faded completely while she was away in Atlanta.

Sure there'd been a few nightmares. Times when she'd woken up with her heart pounding, drenched in sweat, at three in the morning after dreaming about Franco's dead body, lying in a pool of a blood in a New York alley, pumped full of bullets. Even though she knew he was safe. Living a new life with a new name somewhere on the West Coast. Thankfully, Alec had slept through all of them, so she didn't have to explain herself to her husband.

It was one more secret they'd keep for the rest of their lives. Gillian was certain of it. Sometimes she wanted to talk about it, just like she wanted to talk about Sophie with Alec. But she knew neither of those talks would ever happen. Knew both men well enough to know that.

"Should go home," he told her. "Prepare for my speech on Monday."

"Alright," she conceded, giving his arm a squeeze, turning away to hide her disappointment. That was one more thing that had changed since New York City. Aside from a hurried lunch here and there, they barely spent any more time together outside the office. Barely spent time together _in_ the office, now that she thought about it. They'd come a long way from the days of sharing an office. From the days when they couldn't move across the room without bumping into each other.

_Never thought I'd say this while we're still working together, but I miss you. _

"But...doesn't mean I'm gonna do it," he added, as if changing his mind on impulse, cutting off her thoughts with that grin of his. The one that always lifted her mood. This time he was the one who hooked his arm into hers. "I mean, you brought me a giant citrus souvenir, least I can do is buy you a birthday drink, right?"

"Right." Her eyes lit up. The prospect of spending an evening with him shouldn't have made her as happy as it did. "Least you can do."

"It's a date then."

Closing the door behind them, they left his office together, Cal's arm still linked with hers when she turned off the lights.

** The End **


	52. Deleted Scenes

**Deleted Scenes **

These are a few drabbles I wrote over the course of writing this story, with the intention of putting them into a chapter or a story arc somewhere but somehow never found a place for them. So thanks to whatobertie, who gave me the idea of "deleted scenes" and made me think to add them in at the end instead. In case anyone else wants to have a peek at them.

* * *

><p><strong>I) <strong>

Cal leaned over her desk, his nose coming dangerously close to her take-out container.

"What are you eating?"

Gillian picked up a second piece with her chopsticks, dipping it into the soya sauce. "Gyoza."

Cal made a face.

"Asian dumplings," she explained, mouth half full. His habit of analysing everything extended to her food. It used to annoy her. Now she couldn't care less.

"It's ten in the morning, Foster. Can't you have a muffin like a normal person?"

"I'm sure it's dinner time in Japan."

"Come on." Cal tossed her a folder. "Suarez is waiting in the Cube."

Gillian disappointedly put the rest of the dumpling back into the container and wiped her lips with a napkin. "He is? Already?"

They were always early when she was eating something good.

Sometimes she wondered if Lightman had a hand in it.

* * *

><p><strong>II) <strong>

"Stop switching the channels, Em. You're driving me bonkers."

"I can't find a song I like."

They were sitting in traffic, moving inches at a time. Total DC gridlock and Emily couldn't keep her hands off the radio dial.

Every song he heard lasted only a note or two until she moved on to the next one.

_"...ooh, baby, baby, baby, ooooh..." _

_"She's got a ticket to..." _

_"...on my own. Like a drifter I was..." _

_"...to the moon, let the stars..."_

_"...in the USA now! I was..." _

_"Straight up now, baby..."_

Cal's hand shot to the dial and he shut it off. "Enough."

Emily's giant eyes got a little wider. "But Dad..."

"If you can't find a song you like then have a conversation with your father."

There was a groan. Then a long, pouty, silence.

Then finally. "So what's up with you and Gillian?"

"What do you mean, what's up?"

"Are you gonna marry her?"

Cal's head whipped sideways. "Bloody hell, Em! Why would I marry Gillian?"

"You like her don't you?"

"I like a lot of people."

"No you don't."

_Smartass. _"She's married to Alec."

"So if she wasn't married to Alec you would want to marry her?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because...I don't!"

"That's not a reason! It's not even a reason that she's married. You used to be married to Mom. Now you're not. Maybe she won't be married to Alec much longer either."

"Yeah, she will."

"Why?"

Cal couldn't help a chuckle. "I don't have an answer for that."

"That sucks."

"Why? You like Alec don't you?"

"Yeah, I guess." Emily shrugged her shoulders. "But I know Gillian wants kids and Mom doesn't. I was thinking it would be cool to have a little brother."

"So your motives for marrying me and Foster are entirely self-serving."

"No, not just for me. She makes you happy."

"Lots of things make me happy."

"That's not true. Not much makes you happy. But she does."

_"Em?"_

"Plus, she wouldn't have to bend down to kiss you like Mom used to."

Cal turned the radio back on. "Go fiddle with the dial, Em."

* * *

><p><strong>III) <strong>

"This is bloody ridiculous," Cal Lightman announced as he slid back into the bar stool next to hers in the dimly lit airport bar. "Every thirty minutes they push back the flight time another half hour. A four-hour delay for a two hour flight? It's absurd. If we ran our business like this we'd be out of business."

Gillian Foster did what she'd done during every flight delay they'd sat through during the last four years. She shrugged her shoulders. Next she'd listen to him vent over a couple of drinks at the bar. Then she'd head over to the gift shop and buy a book. And a candy bar. Then she'd find a quiet seat in the waiting area somewhere and ignore him and his pacing and cursing until the flight finally took off.

It was such a predictable routine, Cal was willing to bet money on it. Hated that he was such a willing participant in it.

"He'll have another one," she told the bartender.

"So will she," Cal added.

Gillian raised her lips in amusement. "Sure. Why not." Then she turned to him. "You know, all this irritation...it's not good for your blood pressure."

He stabbed the olive in his martini with his swizzle stick and then pulled it out and ate the whole thing in one bite, scrunching his face when the sourness hit his tongue. "This...this is nothing," he told her. "My old man would've started cussing out the poor kid at the counter."

Gillian finished her first drink. "In that case, I'm impressed with your Zen-like patience."

"Guessing Papa Foster would've bought the New York Times and read it calmly 'til they announced the boarding call."

The bartender brought them their second drink and Gillian took hers without looking at him. Took a generous sip of it without answering his question.

It occurred to him then that in the four years he'd known her she never once mentioned her father.

And she still wasn't mentioning him now.

Instead, she took another sip of her martini and for a second Cal thought the silence between them might swallow them whole. Unlike Foster, he didn't like silence. It took a monumental effort for him not to fight it and say something. _Anything_.

Thankfully she was the one who finally broke it.

"Foster's my married name," she pointed out, before turning her blue eyes in his direction. "And my father...I don't think he's ever read the New York Times, in his entire life and he...he would've been on his fourth drink by now. Or fifth."

"I see," he managed.

"He liked to drink. A lot."

The revelation stunned him. Even as he realized it shouldn't have. That he, of all people, should've known better than to assume she had a perfect childhood and a perfect life. That maybe, just maybe, she'd fought just as hard to get to where she was as he did.

"Not always," she told him, as if wanting to reassure him. To make sure he knew she wasn't looking for sympathy. "But when he did drink too much it...wasn't good. My Mom, she tried to shield me from it, but I could always tell, the minute he walked into a room, from the way his voice changed when he had too many. The words he'd use on her..." Gillian took another sip of her drink. "The things he'd say about us. The _way_ he'd say them."

Something else occurred to him then too. Something else he should have questioned a long time ago.

"It's how you got your gift," he told her softly. "For voices. Inflections. Dysfunctional behaviours breed dysfunctional adaptations."

She smiled a little, the tension between them gone. Cal marvelled at her lack of anger. "You make it sound like I'm a mutant."

He grinned back at her. "Natural. In our field we call them Naturals."


End file.
